Harry Potter and the Revolution of Ages
by Muggledog
Summary: Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny leave school after thier respective sixth and fifth years and find themselves wound up in adventure's web as they prepare to go off searching for Voldemort's horcruxes, and deal with Voldemort's crusade against the Muggles.
1. Chapter 1: Sheavesden

ONE: Sheavesden

The town of Sheavesden, like so many other towns inhabited by Wizards was nestled within a community of poverty-stricken Muggles. Located at the tip of Northern Ireland, Sheavesden was once a bustling mill town until the great depression era in the 1940s, now Sheavesden looked like a town that might be featured in a Muggle horror film. The giant Sheavesden Mill still stood, a sentinel in the night sky, and while its size was as impressive and intimidating as ever, most of the inhabitants of Sheavesden now agreed that it was one of the most haunting buildings around. A 12 foot tall chimney stood in the central part of the mill, towering, dusty and falling apart at the seams. The various buildings that made up the mill, though they showed signs of once being impressive in grandeur, they now looked cold and unwelcoming, and there wasn't an intact window left on any square foot of the building. There were spots where the walls and roofing had completely caved in, too. There was still lumber left over from its active days, but it was so rotten that when the sons of the town's carpenters suggested to their fathers that they could help themselves, the older men would answer that the wood was probably more than 40 years old, and would most likely disintegrate should they put even a finger on them, and tell their sons off for not thinking this fact obvious.

The inhabitants of Sheavesden were another matter entirely. Most were the old workers of the Sheavesden mill, some as old as the mill itself, and most, due to years of unemployment, lived in houses that were not much better off than the mill. The town now screamed depression amongst its inhabitants, and the drug usage was astronomical. Because of this, not only were the old declining in health, but the young as well. Due to extremely violent gang situations among the few remaining inhabitants who were around the ages of 20 to about 35, most of Sheavesden's inhabitants rarely went roaming about, and those who did were usually children who went roaming around the mill for a dare.

This, however, appealed to Ireland's wizarding community, as they tried to set up communities in recognizable places, but places where Muggle interference could be kept at a minimalist bay. Even though they really would not have needed to worry about being spotted, two wizards who had just chosen to apparate into the village had arrived a good 30 feet away from the mill, the nearest building to the large field that they had chosen as their arrival spot.

The two wizards who had just appeared out of thin air were both men, one very tall, the other looking as though he weren't all that old. No older, perhaps, then 17 or 18. Both were cloaked in black robes that, in the dying daylight, made them nearly invisible. The tall man made to grab the young man's arm, but he dodged out of reach, instead choosing to cast the man a furious stare as he followed in the other man's hurried wake.

"Where on earth are we going?" the young man called. "Stop fooling around and answer my question Snape!" he spat. The older man, Severus Snape, the former Potions and Defense against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, looked back at his young charge, clearly irritated, as though the question had been asked at least twice a minute during the trip.

"We are going to your aunt's house, Draco." Snape said silkily. "I have arranged a small meeting. Your mother will be there." Draco Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks, the look of dislike on his face doubled.

"My mother?" Draco said, sounding revolted.

"Yes." Snape said, simply, "Now hurry up, I do not want to keep your aunt waiting." He set off again, Malfoy following at a distance, clearly wishing he were anywhere else, in very different company. Snape strode along a road parallel to the mill, passing houses that, like the mill, held signs of once being good looking, but were now damp, derelict, and covered in moss, crumbling plaster and peeling paint. Some had broken windows or roofs. The front of the houses looked like they might have once had gardens, but like everything else, age and neglect had taken its toll, and the only clue of any past gardens were that the boarders of the front of the houses, where the gardens would be, had grass that was thinner and less healthy than that of the rest of the front lawns, which were very overgrown. At the end of the road, Snape made a left onto another, smaller lane, where, if anything, the houses were more shabby than the ones on the main road, and every now and then, the smell of Marijuana being smoked and the sound of coughing could be heard from the occupants of the houses that had broken windows, as the inhabitants dealt with their sickeningly blackened lungs and the constant drafts that purveyed their houses.

Finally, Snape stopped at a bare looking, but perfectly square bit of front lawn. There was no house, however, and Malfoy wondered if Snape had perhaps taken a wrong turn. Snape, however, strode forward, stopping where the door would be. Snape extracted a wand, made some motions, and then, as if summoned, a house scarcely more appealing than it's neighbors, appeared out of thin air, in much the same way Snape and Malfoy appeared. Snape proceeded to ring the doorbell.

A woman with heavy lidded eyes and a strong jaw answered the door. Rather heavyset and looking as though she would give her arm to set fire to something, or observe some form of torture, this woman wasn't a sight for sore eyes.

"Ahhh, Severus. You've come. Excellent. Narcissa will be most pleased."

"Good evening, Bellatrix," Snape responded. 'May we enter?" His manners were clearly no more than an act, for his words were hollow, sarcastic, and devoid of any proper feeling. Had Snape had his way, he would have simply walked in without any greeting at all.

"Please, make yourself at home." Bellatrix Lestrange responded, matching Snape for his sarcasm. She merely glared as Malfoy crossed the threshold into her house.

A scream distracted the three, and a woman with a very pointed, and potentially beautiful face, had she not seemed to have etched in an expression of sourness permanently onto her face, had thrown herself at Snape and Malfoy. Narcissa Malfoy broke into tears as her eyes met with her son's.

"Oh Draco, you're alive!" She sobbed, reaching out for Malfoy's arm. Malfoy backed off, looking revolted. Narcissa, however, would not be put off. "How on earth did you manage to evade capture?" she continued. "I got a Patronus message from Severus…you were…" she was cut off by Snape.

"Narcissa, calm down. I will tell how we have achieved this, as it is very pertinent to why I have called this meeting in the first place. I have to insist, however," his eyes lingered on Narcissa and Bellatrix, her sister. Narcissa was still sobbing dryly, and Bellatrix was looking callously amused, as if she was not truly interested in anything Snape might have to say, "That you two keep from interruptions. My time here is very limited, and it is crucial that we decide something before I have to leave." Narcissa was able to calm down enough to control her sobbing, and Bellatrix's expression of amusement was replaced by one of very dim interest. Snape took no notice of them except to take in their apparent willingness to listen.

"Now," Snape began, "as Narcissa has just said, Draco has failed to complete the task the Dark Lord imposed on him. As you are no doubt aware, this act has made the Dark Lord very angry, and I know he would be most happy to dispose of Draco." At this, however, Narcissa broke out in renewed sobs. "Narcissa, that's enough." Snape said firmly. "I have volunteered to pass on to the Dark Lord the information that the deed was done, just not in the manner he had hoped."

"Yeah, you and your stupid Unbreakable Vow." Malfoy said in a hiss. "I would have done it fine, but you interfered!"

"Foolish boy!" Snape spat. "You could not have completed the task on your own." Malfoy made a move as if to retort, but Snape held him back with a look. "As I say, the Dark Lord is most displeased. However, I am willing to arrange that you, Draco, go into hiding with your mother. I believe I can sort out the rest with the Dark Lord."

"I will not go into hiding!" Malfoy protested. "I am not a coward!"

"This has nothing to do with you being a coward…" Narcissa began, again trying to come closer to Draco, but he pulled away.

"I don't care! I'm not going into hiding!" Malfoy bellowed.

"You will do as I say!" Snape shot back, matching Malfoy's anger. "You may think yourself manly and that you would have been able to complete the task, but you are neither! You are a foolish child and you are in danger. Therefore, you will go into hiding as I have planned!" Where another person may have shriveled up from fear after Snape's lash, Malfoy's rage increased, his face purpling.

"I…AM…NOT…A…CHILD!!" He roared, with all the volume he could muster. Snape, however, lost his temper. In one quick movement, he had crossed the room, grabbed Malfoy's arm, forced his hand onto his mother's arm, and rapped Narcissa over the head with his wand, forcibly apparating Narcissa into his preplanned hiding location, dragging Malfoy unwillingly along.

After the pair had evaporated, Snape turned to his hostess. Bellatrix did not seem to have raised a single eye throughout the drama that had unfolded in her house, and remained unfazed.

"He's in the back room, isn't he?" Snape said, softly. Bellatrix nodded, taking out her wand, pointing it at a rather large bookshelf, and muttering some words under her breath. A door appeared in the middle, and Snape, with no words of thanks, stepped in, shutting the magical door behind him.

He stood in a vast tunnel which was more like a large cavern than anything. Snape pulled out his wand and muttered,

"Lumos." The tip of his wand flared, illuminating the long passageway in front of him. Careful to tread on nothing but the marble steps that had been laid down, he proceeded to walk, his wand continuing to light the way across the cavern. About five minutes later, he saw the end of the tunnel, and stopped at another door. This one was much, much larger than the one he had left, and though there didn't seem to be any light coming from inside, the door, like the front doors of a 15th century Cathedral, glimmered with a light that would have made any other man's spine tingle, and make him reconsider his decision to enter. The fact that a sound, much like an eerily high and menacingly bowed violin was being played from within would not have eased any man's apprehensions about this place.

Snape, however, approached the door with no hint of fear, but instead, let his eyes rest on the rather large twelve karat gold knocker. It was shaped like a giant snake, to mirror the one that had been carved on the door itself. Had this snake been real, it would have been at least twelve feet or longer. Snape rapped the knocker smartly. No one answered, hollered "come!" or given any show of welcome, but after Snape had knocked on the door, in a particular pattern, the door swung open, leading Snape into a huge room that was beyond description.

At least forty feet high, and twice as wide, the room did indeed resemble a Cathedral, except that there were no windows, and it seemed to be hollowed out of the same type of rock that made up the rest of the cavern through which Snape had traveled. It was this, perhaps, that was most fascinating. Though the Cathedral like room was indeed a giant cavern, it seemed far too immaculately conceived to be done by nature's forces alone. The whole room looked as though a professional architect had designed it, and the whole room was perfectly square, nothing overdone, and though the room did not have any windows, a light that was green-white in color, and had the flickering qualities of a candle, permeated the room, giving it the same haunted feel as the door that led to the room. The scariest part was the person seated upon a throne like chair that sat before a fireplace in the middle of the room.

"Lay down your wand, Severus." A cold voice commanded. Snape did so quickly, while trying to not break his eye contact with the throne. "Come closer, Severus." The cold voice commanded again. Snape approached the throne, taking in a man with watery eyes, a balding head, and rather overlarge front teeth, so that he rather represented a rat in appearance. The strangest thing about this man was a silver hand that rested upon the throne. This man was clearly a servant to the man sitting upon the throne. As Snape approached, the silver handed man, Peter Pettigrew, or better known as Wormtail, turned the throne to face Severus.

"My Lord Voldemort." Snape said, bowing. Lord Voldemort was perhaps as indescribable as his surroundings. He had the body of a man, but his squashed face resembled a snake's, and he had mere slits for a nose, and narrow, catlike eyes which were the color of blood. He looked about a good two feet taller than the tallest man, and his voice, for a man's, was unusually high, and so cold that to hear him speak was like to be drenched in a shower of ice, and would indeed freeze the blood of any normal man who would hear him. Voldemort scrutinized Snape for a moment.

"You have disappointed me, Severus." Voldemort said softly, "you were not supposed to interfere."

"My Lord, Draco Malfoy's mother convinced me to…"

"Enough!" Voldemort spat. "I do not wish to hear any sniveling apologies, Severus. You played into that foolish woman's love for her useless child. That is not the way things are run with me."

"Yes, sir." Snape said.

"I think that either you or the boy should be killed," Voldemort said casually, "however, why? Dumbledore is dead. The task I assigned has been completed, but not in the way I expected." Snape bowed his head even more. Voldemort however laughed. He raised his wand. "Crucio!" he said, pointing the wand at Snape. For a few minuets Snape was on the hard floor of the cavern screaming in agony until Voldemort released him from the curse.

"You deserved that, Severus," Voldemort said. "You know better than anyone that I do not forgive, and you, Severus, _you _have let me down. I know that you killed Dumbledore, even though I assigned the task to young Mr. Malfoy, and I know that just earlier tonight, you sent the aforementioned Malfoy, along with his mother into hiding. Get up!" His last word was a command, and Snape straightened up quickly. Voldemort's red eyes bore into Snape's. "I will spare your life for now, and Mr. Malfoy's as well."

"Thank you, my Lord, you are merciful." Snape said, bowing once again.

"Enough, Severus!" Voldemort spat back. "Get up! I am only sparing your life for the moment, Severus. I have a job for you, and I hope you will not dash my hopes. Listen closely. Wormtail and I have been successful in recruiting more and more Death Eaters and various, shall we say, volunteers. I have found the time right for some more serious attacks. We needn't be so discreet this time, Severus. You will lead these Death Eaters and volunteers in an attempt to bring down any remaining order. Induce chaos. You should start by a rampage in Muggle London, give those Muggles a taste of what is to come, and then you are free to start in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Kill any and all, and be sure to show no mercy, especially if you encounter any of Dumbledore's old crowd. Do I make myself plain?"

"I understand clearly, Master." Snape responded, sinking into his deepest bow yet.

"Very well," Voldemort said, "take Wormtail here with you. He will introduce you to our new charges." Voldemort again scrutinized Snape. "You are dismissed, Severus, but be warned: I shall not tolerate your interference again. I expect more faithful service from now on."

"Yes, my Lord." Snape said, bowing as Voldemort returned to facing the fire. Snape walked quickly to the front door, Wormtail following along in his wake.


	2. Chapter 2: Weddings

TWO: Weddings

Harry Potter had returned to his summer home at number four, Privet Drive, just as Dumbledore had expressed his dying desire for Harry to do, at least until he was seventeen, the age at which a wizard or witch was considered an adult. On the whole, Harry's visit was far from fun. His horrible aunt, uncle and cousin took every advantage of the fact that Harry had come back from the last year at Hogwarts, if anything, more troubled than ever to bully him and keep him as miserable as they could manage. What stuck out in Harry's mind most was the train ride.

Dumbledore's funeral was over, and the train was supposed to come, but by an unusual twist, the train had broken down. As it had broken down in Muggle London, it had to be repaired in the Muggle method, so much to Professor McGonagall's frustration, it had to arrive three days later.

These three days had been a misery for Harry. He knew that he'd acted for the best when he broke up with Ginny Weasley, his best friend's sister, and now ex-girlfriend, but as she had maintained a stony silence for the next few days, he'd had plenty of time to dwell on his feelings. He remembered the monster that had seemed to have come alive in his chest every time he saw her with Dean Thomas, a fellow Gryffindor in Harry's year whom Ginny had been romantically involved with, and the feeling of pure joy that he felt whenever he kissed her, and by the time the train had been repaired and had come to the school to fetch everyone, a sizeable part of Harry was beginning to feel like he had made the wrong choice.

As the train left Hogwarts, for what appeared to be the last time, Harry, Ron and Hermione had found a compartment to themselves, but a few minutes later, apologizing profusely to Ron and Hermione, but not quite meeting Harry's eyes, Ginny joined them. As the train began to gather speed towards London, the four of them began to recount memories of their late Headmaster. Harry kept shooting glances at Ginny. When Hermione, in a fit of overwhelming grief, grabbed Ron's hand and started sobbing into his chest, Harry could bear it no longer.

"Ginny…um, can I speak to you?" Ginny seemed surprised at first, but by the time they were wandering the car looking for an empty compartment, she had become a bit frosty towards him. They finally found a compartment and sat down, facing each other, Harry looking very agitated and unhappy. Upon seeing his face, Ginny's frostiness evaporated instantaneously.

"What's wrong, Harry?" She asked him kindly. At first, it seemed like words had failed Harry. He worked his mouth a couple times, but no sound came out. Ginny looked back at him with an expression of polite confusion. Finally, Harry seemed to find his tongue.

"Ginny…" he croaked. "Oh, Ginny I've been so stupid!!" The dam of what he wanted to say finally bursting through him. He told her everything. What he'd really been studying with Dumbledore up until his dying moment, about the Horcruxes and what he had to do. "But I was wrong!" He said, feeling close to tears. "I was so bloody wrong! Oh, Ginny! You _are _capable of handling yourself in a situation…any situation…I mean, I did it to protect you…I thought that would make me stronger…oh I am so stupid! I don't want to break up with you Ginny! If we do this together, we will be all the stronger for it! Oh please, forgive me, Ginny! I love you so much, Ginny. I love you!" His last words were said with such force and feeling that Ginny was stunned, which was not changed when a few fat tears leaked out of Harry's eyes. But in a moment she had thrown herself on Harry's side of the compartment.

"I love you, too Harry." She looked up at him, and ran her hand through his untidy hair, and gently pulled him into a kiss. This was not like the kiss they shared after the Quidditch house cup either. This was a passionate, deep kiss, full of pure love, where the whole thing, especially the way they worked their lips and tongues, came from the deepest pit of their hearts. Tears flew thick and fast from both Harry and Ginny's eyes, and there was a pain in Harry's heart that suggested that the moment he let go of Ginny, he might as well die. From that moment on, he knew that Ginny was his only concern. That Ginny was to be the one he'd want to share all his life with, for good and for bad. He also knew that this would have been how Dumbledore would have wanted him to leave after the funeral.

Finally, after what seemed a wonderfully blissful eternity, Ginny gently broke the kiss.

"We should probably be going back. Ron and Hermione are going to be wondering where we got to." Harry smiled at her. He didn't want to stop kissing her, and he felt like he'd rather spend the rest of the trip with her and only her, but he also felt like telling Ron, and he also felt a sudden urge for a nice loud round of Exploding Snap.

"Yeah, let's go." Harry agreed. Ginny took his hand in hers, and led him out of the compartment. It was a tight squeeze for the two of them to walk down the isles of the train together, but Harry liked it that way. There was something calming about feeling Ginny's wonderfully warm body beside his own. They finally found the compartment they had left. Ginny stopped so suddenly that Harry only just managed to keep from walking into her and knocking her over. Ginny began to giggle.

"What's so funny?" he asked her, feeling confused. She pushed him to the spot where she had just been standing, so that he could see into the compartment properly. There, with their arms around each other, and locked in a passionate kiss, not unlike the one Harry and Ginny had just shared, was Hermione and Ron. Harry grinned in spite of himself, and though he knew this was a private moment, he and Ginny just didn't seem like they would be able to avert their eyes. Finally, Harry knocked and entered.

"Oh, what the…who the…bloody hell!" Ron spluttered. "What in the world do you think…I mean…"

"Sorry, mate," Harry said over Ron's continued spluttering. "Ginny and I just got back, and well, you know the rest. Anyway, may I offer my congratulations and say I am most proud of you." Ron seemed most taken aback by this compliment, and wore an expression suggesting of having been hit over the head with something heavy.

"Congratulations? What are you on about anyway Harry? Why did you and Ginny leave?" Harry looked at Ron's expression and burst out laughing. Unable to answer, Ginny took over.

"We made up." She said simply. "We're back together." Hermione, who had blushed so red when Harry and Ginny had entered that she made Ron's hair look pink, now looked at Harry and Ginny, who had sat down opposite them, beaming.

"Yeah, I was wrong." Harry said, having finally recovered from his laughing fit. "Do you remember what Dumbledore always said? About love being one of the most powerful forms of magic? Well, this is what he meant, isn't it? While Ginny and I, and you two can feel affection for one another like this, we'll be all the stronger for it, and Voldemort, the weaker." Ron grinned. Harry looked at him, and smiled back. "I am proud of you, mate. You two make a perfect couple." Ron and Hermione beamed at him.

"And you!" Ron shot back gleefully, messing with Harry's hair in a brotherly fashion.

After that, the train ride was smooth feeling, but because the four were having so much fun, especially when Ron had unloaded some Weasley's Wizard Wheezes fireworks while they played Exploding Snap, all too soon the train was slowing up as it approached platform 9 ¾ . Upon disembarking, Harry felt incredibly sad, enough so that he was a complete yang from the Harry of less than half an hour ago. He knew that he was condemning himself to a month of misery at the Dursleys, but Ron cheered him up by saying that they would remove him to the Burrow the very next day, as they felt he would be safer there than in Surrey. Heartened, he said his hellos to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who were beyond thrilled to know he and Ginny were back to dating. He and the Weasleys and Hermione had a good chat until Uncle Vernon arrived. Harry bade them all goodbye, giving Ginny as tender and prolonged hug as he could, kissing her and feeling very sorry he'd have to wait a whole day until he could taste her warm lips again!

So it was these feelings that had purveyed Harry's veins for the rest of the day, and, most unfortunately, the next day, too, as no one had come to collect him, as Ron had promised. Instead, he'd had to deal with the Dursleys and their rants, mostly from Uncle Vernon, as to how they had hoped that Harry would not return, and that his reappearance was all the more unwelcome.

"That old fool, that crackpot who came to fetch you last year, he said you'd be able to leave this house, didn't he?!" Vernon roared at Harry as a means of greeting when Harry first arrived.

"Yes." Harry replied dully.

"So, why aren't you gone?!" Uncle Vernon bellowed.

"Because I'm not seventeen yet!" Harry shot back, his temper rising. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to go up to my room!" Though he felt miserable by the very next day, Harry couldn't help but notice that one person seemed somehow much more subdued than usual. Aunt Petunia usually ranted along with Uncle Vernon about how useless and shameful Harry was, and what a disgrace he was to the family, but Harry couldn't help but notice that while she continued to nod her head in agreement with her husband if he questioned her during his rants, she never took any more of a proactive role, and when she and Harry were alone, she kept shooting him looks, as though she wanted to tell him something while Vernon was not there. This was so un-Aunt Petunia, that far from being curious as to this new Aunt Petunia, Harry was completely unnerved, and all the keener to be out of her company. His worst day at number four, however, was to be the following.

It was the third day since Harry had returned, and he had been sitting in his room. There was a picture that was very special to Harry, a picture that Hagrid had given him in the picture book Hagrid had made for Harry as a goodbye present to him at the end of his first year. It showed his parents happily cuddling in each other's arms. Harry had taken this photo out of Hagrid's book and put it in an old frame of Dudley's. Harry had guessed that this picture must have been taken just after the formal celebration of their wedding, as there was a visible bit of decoration every time James Potter swung Lily Potter to his left. The picture was undoubtedly taken by Sirius Black, James Potter's best friend and Harry's late godfather, or perhaps by Remus Lupin, another friend, and Harry's Defense against the Dark Arts teacher during his third year. This year, however, his bedside table held two memorable pictures. The one of his parents and now a new one, taken by Harry's friend Colin Creevey, which showed Harry and Ginny down by the lake at Hogwarts in one of their most passionate times before Harry called off their romance.

On the day in question, Harry had forgotten to shut his bedroom door, and was, at the moment watching his photographic self sneak up behind Ginny, throw his arms around her, and then the couple, laughing fit to burst, kiss passionately and fall to the ground by the lake kissing and cuddling, observed by an amused Hermione and a slightly put off Ron. As the photo continued the replay of this memory, Harry's eyes welled up again with tears, but at that precise moment, Dudley walked in. He took one look at the photo and Harry's tear filled eyes, and burst out laughing. Harry was so shocked that he jumped a mile in the air. When he had landed, ungracefully, back on his bed, his shock had turned to pure anger. He pulled out his wand and advanced on Dudley, who stopped laughing at once, gave a terrified scream and turned tail and ran. Harry, not stupid enough to chase him, watched him run, seething at his cousin.

The next day, however, Dudley, no doubt jealous of Harry having a girlfriend, had found the whole incident an excellent vehicle for teasing Harry. Though Harry was getting better by the day in controlling his emotions, certain people, like Dudley, could easily test his resolve. Therefore, as Dudley had irked him to the point of loosing it, he was very pleased when someone rapped on the front door smartly.

"Get the door, Dudley." Uncle Vernon said, not taking his eyes off his newspaper. Dudley did as he was told, and opened the door, only to come running back terrified. Harry, curious as to Dudley's change in emotion, walked out to the front door to see who had arrived. He couldn't have been more pleased to see Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Mr. Weasley and Remus Lupin silhouetted against the door.

"Hello, Harry," Mr. Weasley said. "May we come in?"

"But of course." Harry responded easily. "Make yourselves at home."

"Excuse me?!" Everyone jumped. "They most ruddy well cannot make themselves at home!" Uncle Vernon roared, having just entered the entrance hall. "You'll grab Harry and go, assuming that's why you are here in the first place. There'll be no lingering around…"

"Quite right, Vernon, don't you have to go to work?" Harry scanned to find the speaker, and his jaw dropped. Aunt Petunia.

"Er, yes, dear, work." Uncle Vernon said, clearly shocked at his wife's new demeanor, even more than at the oddballs standing on his doorstep. He hurried out the door the Weasleys and Lupin had left open.

"Thanks for that, Petunia." Lupin said. She nodded curtly. Harry's head was reeling. Suddenly, for no reason at all, Aunt Petunia was talking to wizards. Something she had not been able to do for all the years Harry had lived with her.

"Shall we get your stuff then, mate?" Ron asked.

"Yes, indeed!" Harry responded. He had no desire to remain with the Dursleys. He, Ron and Hermione went up to his room to pack. The three began to stow everything, but Harry couldn't help noticing that the packing was very slow going, as Hermione and Ron seemed more interested in each other, than helping him pack. They would continuously steal glances of one another as they attempted to pack, and if they made eye contact both were likely to drop anything that they were holding at the time.

"My broom, Hermione!" Harry groaned as she and Ron made eye contact and she nearly stepped on its immaculate tail twigs. Hermione blushed deeply, and returned to packing, avoiding Ron's gaze. Harry, however, scrutinized her for a moment and then turned to Ron, remembering something.

"Ron, where's Ginny?" Harry asked. Both Ron and Hermione, who had been finishing up on Harry's clothes while he started on his old schoolbooks, looked up, at each other, and then exchanged darkly significant looks.

"She wanted to come, mate, she really did," Ron said, "but Fleur's working her spare, preparing for the wedding." Hermione nodded.

"I don't think Ron's mom was even as stressed as Ginny. It's been a nightmare for her." Hermione agreed.

Finally everything was packed, just as Lupin stuck his head in the door to check on them.

"We're all set to go" he said.

"As are we!" Harry said triumphantly, latching his trunk shut.

"Good." Lupin said, and made back down the stairs, followed by the trio. Reunited with Mr. Weasley, who had been examining the refrigerator delightedly, Fred and George, the band prepared to leave.

"You are all set?" Mr. Weasley asked, removing his head from behind the fridge. "All right, let's all get outside. I have set up a Portkey for us, as there aren't really a whole lot of good apparition points in such a busy suburb." The gang followed Mr. Weasley out of the house of number four and settled down, getting in a good position around the Portkey.

"One…two…three!" Mr. Weasley tapped the watering can with his wand, and Harry felt the familiar sensation of a hook just behind his navel, and as Privet Drive became a blur of color, he thought happily of where he would land.

The Burrow was a flurry of noise when Harry landed. It seemed like an argument was going on inside.

"…I thought you had decided! I've already had to go into Diagon Alley three times with Ginny already today!" Roared a voice Harry recognized as Mrs. Weasley's. His heart did a back flip when he heard the next voice.

"Well, gee, I suppose we will just have to go, won't we, mum?" Ginny's voice sounded nearly as angry as her mother's and laced with sarcasm. Harry could hear Mrs. Weasley trying to suppress a laugh. Then a voice came out of the open window that seemed to take all the air out of Harry's lungs.

"Well, eet must be done! The wedding cannot go on wizout ze robes changed to a lighter shade of gold!" Fleur Delacour's voice, though as beautiful as always, was as laced with anger as Ginny's had been with sarcasm. Harry grinned at Ron and Hermione, indicating the argument, and they grinned back at him. They followed Mr. Weasley and the twins into the Burrow, tailed by Lupin.

Harry's first impression upon entering was that he had never seen the house so full. All the Weasley family was there, plus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, plus a smattering of other guests, by the look of it, relatives and friends of Fleur's from France. It appeared that Mr. Weasley had even charmed a few spare bedrooms into existence.

"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks said, enthusiastically, upon seeing Harry. "Man oh man have we got things to tell you!"

"Yes, but not now," Mrs. Weasley said, exhausted. She turned on Fleur. "Look, I promise we'll go to Diagon Alley first thing tomorrow, but right now we must concentrate on other things." Harry made his way over to Ginny, who looked angry and exhausted, and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Harry!" she squealed, jumping into his embrace. The two kissed passionately. Fleur gave a tinkling laugh which seemed to annoy Ginny who broke apart from Harry, her eyes narrowing at Fleur.

"Eet looks as though we will 'av a double wedding." She said, though Harry noticed she didn't seem pleased at the idea.

"There's already a double wedding." Mr. Weasley said, mirroring his wife's exhausted voice.

"Double…?" Harry said, uncomprehending. For some reason, Lupin beckoned him over to a quiet corner. He showed Harry, with some hesitation, a ring on his hand. Harry's mind was racing.

"So you and…and…" Harry started.

"Tonks," replied Lupin. "Harry, I wonder if it would be asking too much…I mean it was just a thought…but I'd really like you to be my best man. I mean I would have ordinarily asked James or Sirius, but they're…you know…" Harry nodded, his throat suddenly very dry with a definite lump.

"Absolutely, I'll do it." Harry said softly. "Absolutely, Professor Lupin." Lupin grinned.

"Harry, I am no longer your teacher. Just an old friend of the family's. I'd much rather you called me Remus, or better yet, Moony."

"Sure thing, Moony." Harry said, grinning back.

"Oi! You two!" Ron was striding over to Harry and Lupin. "We've decided we'll play a game of Quidditch! Relax, you know. Adults against…well…Semi-Adults." Harry and Lupin roared with laughter. Soon, everyone who had decided to play were clutching broomsticks. Harry wondered where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had gotten the spares.

"Wait a minute!" Ron called as everyone made to go to the orchards that the Weasleys used as a Quidditch pitch, "We've got to choose captains!"

"And you're our captain, Ron!" Harry called. "I need a break from Captaining for awhile." So it was. Ron, looking embarrassedly happy became the Semi-Adults team captain, whilst Lupin was the captain of the Adults. Mrs. Weasley looked like she might be rethinking her decision.

"I haven't flown a broom in years." Mrs. Weasley said anxiously, "and I've never as much as set foot on a Quidditch pitch!" Ginny looked at her.

"Don't worry, mum. You'll be fine. Play as your team's chaser, and I can give you some pointers." Mrs. Weasley seemed heartened by her daughter's praise.

A few moments later, the game was in full swing, though play was a little lopsided. As there weren't enough players to make two complete teams, Ginny and Hermione were the Semi-Adults' Chasers, which meant that they were one Chaser short. Fred and George took up their usual places as Beaters; Ron was keeper for the Semi-Adults, and Harry Seeker. At Ginny's suggestion, Mrs. Weasley was the Adults' chaser, alongside Mr. Weasley and Tonks. Lupin and a man Harry assumed to be Fleur's father gave it their best as Beaters, Bill was Keeper, and Charlie Weasley was the Adults' Seeker.

Five minutes in, the Adults led by forty to ten, most of their goals having been scored by Mrs. Weasley. Harry had noticed that Ron, who was not a fantastic Keeper to begin with, was making no effort whatsoever to block his mother's goals. Like Ginny, he seemed more concerned that his mother have a good time, than actually play Quidditch. Bill, however, wasn't showing as much heart, and he pulled off spectacular save after spectacular save, when Ginny was throwing, but whether he wasn't paying attention, or her inability to play caught him off guard, Hermione went, a little more slowly, up to the Adults' end of the pitch and scored. When Harry, Ginny, Fred, George and Ron proceeded to do a victory lap around her, she was so shocked she only just managed to hold on to her broom. Harry and Charlie, meanwhile, both accomplished seekers, were flying the length of the stadium looking for the "snitch", a Muggle golf ball Harry and Charlie had bewitched to appear gold and fly very fast.

"You know, Harry, I've always wanted to play you." Charlie said, coming up and marking Harry as he searched.

"And you!" For a moment, however, they were distracted. Ginny had shot ahead and finally broken Bill's defenses, scoring two magnificent goals, bringing the score to a tie. Harry abandoned his search for the Snitch and flew up to Ginny to kiss her.

"Oi! Potter!" Ron bellowed in a mock Captain's voice, "While your gesture towards our Chaser appears very heartfelt, we cannot afford our Seeker distracting the Chaser!" The whole stadium roared with laughter. In fact, Ron's speech was more distracting than Harry's kiss, and a few minutes, Tonks, Mr. Weasley, and Mrs. Weasley had each pulled off a spectacular goal, because Ron had slumped upon his broom completely consumed by laughter. Suddenly, his old Quidditch reflexes taking place, Harry saw that Charlie had seen the Snitch, and was diving after it. Harry tore himself away from Ginny, and followed Charlie, having seen the Snitch himself. Giving his Firebolt its all, Harry managed to pass Charlie with relative ease, and catch the Snitch, winning the game for the Semi-Adults. The air was filled with the cheers of the Semi-Adults team, and the mock boos of the Adults team, though both Mrs. Weasley and Tonks were beaming widely.

Lupin, the ad hoc officio as well as Captain, called the teams to go to bed. Everyone, though, was much too excited. Most of this, oddly, seemed to be emanating from Mrs. Weasley. She was acting at least forty years younger than she was, and was joyfully giving Ron and Ginny an earful for making it too easy for her.

"You should've tried harder to block my goals, Ronald! I think I'll…well, I'll do something" she said, falling to the floor laughing. "Honestly, I think I can now see why you boys like Quidditch so much." Even Hermione was enjoying herself, showing, mainly to Ron, upon whose lap she rested, a boastful side that she had never shown before.

"Did you see me score, Ron? Did you see me SCORE?!?" Harry and Ron both burst out laughing. Hermione had played two on two Quidditch two years previously, but she had not come back excited like this night.

"Oh, I saw you score all right." Ron said, holding Hermione closer, who was starting to squirm like a little girl again (in part because Ron was tickling her). Ron's smile widened, and he kissed the crown of her head. Taken aback, Hermione stopped squirming, and enveloped herself into a deep, passionate kiss with Ron. Mrs. Weasley, Harry noticed, had tears forming in her eyes, though she was still beaming. Suddenly, Ron broke apart from their kiss.

"Hermione and I are going to bed." He announced, picking up Hermione, and standing, then carrying Hermione up the stairs while she protested in a very flirtatious way. Ginny, who had been curled up catlike on Harry's lap, looked up at him.

"We'd probably better get to bed ourselves." She said.

"Yes, you really should." Mrs. Weasley said, suddenly returning to the sweet disciplinarian Mrs. Weasley that Harry was so familiar with. "We have a _very _long day tomorrow."

"Night, Mr. Weasley." Harry said.

"G'night, Harry." Mr. Weasley answered. "Hey Harry," he added, perking up, "did I tell you? Hermione's parents are coming to Bill and Fleur's wedding! Honestly! Muggles in my house! Oh I'm so excited." Harry grinned.

"Did they say they'd bring you any plugs?" Harry asked.

"Not just plugs! They told me they'd bring me some of those tools they use to fix Muggles' teeth!" Harry could not help laughing. Hermione's parents were both Muggles and were dentists by profession. Harry had always been amused by Mr. Weasley's fondness for Muggles, and to see him bouncing up and down like a boy, knowing that he was going to have Muggle guests, only one word described it: Priceless. Harry took Ginny's hand and made towards the staircase.

"Night, Moony." Harry said, passing by Lupin who was seated beside Tonks in front of the fire.

"Night, Harry." Lupin replied, putting his arm around Tonks and staring dreamily into the fire. Ginny and Harry arrived at the door that led to Ginny's room. Harry pulled her very close, feeling the amazingly beautiful contours of her body, and breathed deeply, Ginny's flowery scent filling his lungs.

"Goodnight, Ginny. I love you so much." Harry said softly.

"Sleep tight, Harry, and sweet dreams. I love you so much too." They kissed, long, deep and passionately. Ginny went into her room, closing the door gently in Harry's face, who heaved a contented sigh, and continued to climb the stairs to the room he shared with Ron. Upon arriving in the room, Harry could tell that something was out of place. Upon approaching Ron's bed, he could tell what. Normally, Ron would not bring the covers much higher than his torso, but tonight, he was almost completely covered up, except for a little patch of red hair, beside which was a much larger patch of bushy brown hair. Contented breathing sounds came from both ends of the bed. Grinning, and holding back a chuckle, Harry left the room, and descended the stairs, and entered Ginny's room.

"Ginny." Harry whispered in her ear. Ginny sat up, looking as though she'd been electrified.

"Harry! Oh, you gave me such a start! I thought you were going to bed!" She said in a terrified whisper.

"Sorry, love, but there is a slight problem. Hermione and Ron are sharing a bed tonight." Harry said. Ginny grinned wickedly, and extended her arms.

"Come here, sweetheart." She whispered, allowing the covers to fall back to expose Ginny's rather small nightdress. His mind reeling with doubts, Harry allowed himself to be embraced by those arms, slowly lowering himself onto her bed, and climbing under the covers, his feet grazing Ginny's legs. The two began kissing each other and cuddling passionately. Ginny reached up and began pulling off Harry's shirt, and Harry fumbled with Ginny's blouse. Ginny started to unzip Harry's pants, but he stopped her.

"What?" she asked, surprised.

"Well," Harry began, unsure of what to say, "let's put it this way: something down south is beginning to move." Ginny stuck a fist in her mouth to stop from giggling.

"You know, there is a charm to cure that." Ginny said, and she proceeded to lean over to whisper it in his ear. Harry grinned, got out of bed, faced away from Ginny, pointed his wand at himself, whispered the incantation, and then got back into bed, and let Ginny strip him completely naked, while he did the same to her. Once their clothes had all been removed, he snuggled up with Ginny, kissing her over and over again, and as fatigue enveloped him, drifted off to sleep in the embrace of one of his favorite people in the whole wizarding world.

As Mrs. Weasley had predicted, the next day was extremely busy. Ginny had arisen long before Harry, and it wasn't until he tried to cuddle her that he realized she wasn't there. Slightly irritated, he decided to get up, not wanting to be discovered in Ginny's bed by Mrs. or Mr. Weasley. He dressed hurriedly, and went down to breakfast. Ron and Hermione were already having coffee and toast, Ron looking extremely shaken, as though he still couldn't believe what had happened last night, a feeling Harry himself was having. He scanned the table.

"Ginny's not here, Harry." Mr. Weasley said gently, correctly interpreting Harry's sweep of the table. "Fleur took her and Gabrielle to Diagon Alley at six this morning to make the adjustments to their bridesmaids' dresses. And when they return, Remus would like to accompany you there as well Harry, so that you two may select some best man appropriate dress robes."

"Arthur, dear, Alastor's in the fire." Mrs. Weasley said, approaching Harry and Mr. Weasley.

"Right, Molly, thanks." Mr. Weasley said, and left for the fireplace.

"What's Mad-Eye doing in the fire?" Ron asked who had been lovingly playing with Hermione's hair.

"Alastor's the main man in charge of security for the wedding." Mrs. Weasley explained. "Oh, and he and Kingsley Shacklebolt have been the primary organizers in your parents' arrival, dear." Mrs. Weasley added, looking at Hermione.

"I couldn't be more…" Mr. Weasley started

"Excited." Mrs. Weasley finished, "we know, Arthur, dear." Mr. Weasley went a little red around his ears, looking just like Ron when he was under pressure.

"I just want to get to know them better…" Mr. Weasley muttered.

"My parents can't wait to get to know you better, either." Hermione piped up. "They've always found you to be enjoyable company. No one usually questions dad as to how braces work." She grinned. "Time their escape, more like." The kitchen rang with laughter.

"So…" Mr. Weasley said, gasping for breath, "how _do _braces work?"

"Ask dad or mum when they come." Hermione said simply.

"Oh, I shall!" Mr. Weasley responded. Just then, the door opened, and Fleur, Gabrielle and Ginny walked in. Ginny looked a bit cross. She gave Harry a kiss.

"Morning, sweetheart." She said, her voice ringing with exhaustion. Harry kissed her back.

"Morning, love. Here, have some coffee." Harry said, pushing his half drunk mug of still steaming coffee at Ginny.

"Thanks," Ginny said accepting the cup with a flourish. "It's been a long morning." Mrs. Weasley looked at her daughter.

"You deserve a good rest sweetheart. Finish that coffee, then you have my permission to go take a nap." Ginny nodded.

"Ah, there you are, Harry." Lupin was strolling into the kitchen, already fastening a traveling cloak around his shoulders. "Are you ready?" Harry was amazed at how nervous Lupin was.

"Give me a second, Moony; I want to see Ginny back to bed." Harry replied.

"Ah, don't worry about me, Harry," Ginny said. "You go on. I'll see you when you get back." She gave him another kiss and departed to go to her bedroom.

"Alright, then, Moony, I'm all set." Harry said. Together, Harry and Lupin exited the Burrow, and Lupin proffered his forearm. Though Harry had successfully apparated he and Dumbledore back to Hogsmeade last year, he had not yet had his apparition test, so he took a gentle hold of Lupin's arm, and the two disapparated together.

The two arrived seconds later in Diagon Alley, and Lupin proceeded to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, where Lupin wanted to get a suit for Harry. A few minutes later, they had one Lupin was satisfied with. They were dress robes not too different from the ones he owned for formal school outings, except that they were almost entirely black, except for a white shirt and a beautiful, pale gold bowtie, and gold trim around the collar, cuffs and down the legs.

"James had a suit similar to this one," Lupin said reminiscently, looking over Harry's shoulder at his reflection in the mirror.

"I remember making them for him." Madam Malkin said. Lupin nodded, smiling.

"Well, Harry, I think these'll do. Do you like them?" Harry nodded.

"They are very nice." Both Madam Malkin and Lupin beamed at him.

"We'll take them, then." Lupin said. Madam Malkin took the robes from Harry, wrapped them up and packaged them up. Lupin paid, though Harry, aware that Lupin was almost poorer than the Weasleys, begged Lupin to let him pay.

"No, Harry," Lupin said, handing Madam Malkin twelve Galleons, seven Sickles and two Knuts, "this is a little gift from me to you for the services you are providing Tonks and I." Harry grinned embarrassedly.

"And now, "Lupin said, "I reckon we should return. The festivities will be starting momentarily, and Alastor's bound to be making the Burrow a veritable fortress." So the two, again thanking Madam Malkin most profusely, stepped back out into Diagon Alley and disapparated back to the Burrow. When he and Lupin reappeared there, Harry could see that the preparations for the double wedding later that evening were indeed going full force. Alastor Moody was there, with what seemed to be half the occupants of the Auror office, shouting himself nearly hoarse with instructions to the other Aurors, while a band of wizards, who Harry assumed to be the wizarding world's answer to carpenters, Muggles who built houses and buildings, were erecting a platform for the two brides and grooms, helped by a witch decorator who was rhapsodizing plans of where to put various decorations to her assistant, who had a clipboard out, and looked as though she could scarcely keep up with her superior's instructions.

"Noticed, have you?" Ron was coming up to Lupin and Harry. "See, this is why we weren't able to come and get you earlier from your aunt and uncle's. It's been bedlam here, trying to keep everything organized. I swear, Mum's gone beyond spare." Harry and Lupin chuckled. The three of them began to walk back to the house.

"Hello, Potter," Moody growled at them, though he still had his back turned to Harry. Harry, who knew all about Moody's magical eye was not surprised. "Security here's been crazy," Moody continued, "but I swear, the Death Eaters all seem half-Dementor these days—anything where there are raging emotions, and they gotta come investigate. Kill if they can, so we've got to have…"

"Could it possibly be 'constant vigilance?'" Harry asked, cutting Moody off and grinning. Moody was not amused, and chose to nod his head by way of reply. Harry continued to the house, where to their surprise, everyone seemed to be waiting for something. Lupin grinned when he saw he queue.

"What's this line for?" Ron asked, looking at the line somewhat incredulously.

"The shower, I think." Lupin responded. Harry and Ron burst into laughter.

"It's not really funny." Said Mrs. Weasley, coming into the room. "Arthur had to put a few charms on the well and kettle so that we could have enough hot water." Ron and Harry laughed even harder at this.

"Well, Harry, I don't think we're the only ones who've procrastinated for once." Ron said, amidst a gale of chuckling.

Finally, everyone had taken their showers and were dressing for the celebrations. Ron, who would normally have been drop dead jealous at the dress robes Lupin had gotten Harry, was sporting a set that were a violent shade of sparkly bronze, with silver lining around the cuffs and neck. Harry thought Fleur seemed to be trying to outdo Lupin and Tonks. He confided his thought to Ron, who groaned.

"That, my friend, is why we've all been having a tough week here since we got back. It certainly explains why Fleur was dragging Ginny and Gabrielle off to Diagon Alley every other day. Remus says that he and Tonks don't care how gorgeously Fleur dresses everyone up, they are going for a more traditional look. I wish Fleur was going traditional. She's got no dress sense." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I either wish Fleur would settle for traditional, or I wish I had Hermione's nerve. _She _wouldn't let Fleur be her dress consultant." Harry suppressed a giggle. Just then, Hermione walked by. Ron had opened the door after he and Harry had finished dressing, and Harry had chanced a glimpse of her. The only other time Harry had seen her look so beautiful (and there was by no means any comparison) was back in their fourth year, at the Yule Ball. Hermione gave Harry a cheery wave as she descended the stairs to go to the garden, where the ceremonies would take place.

"Who _was _Hermione's dress consultant?" Harry asked Ron, awed. Ron grinned in a guilty sort of way.

"Her mum. She barricaded herself in Ginny's room ever since she got here, writing all these letters. I figured she was writing to…well…Krum. We…well…had a bit of a row, and it turned out she was just writing to her mother to ask what would be a good dress to wear to a wedding."

"Ah, there you are, Harry. Good, good. Ready?" Lupin was peeking in on him. He looked quite pale.

"Are you all right, Moony?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Oh I'm fine Harry, just…just a bit nervous. Me getting married…honestly! I wish I could hear what James and Lily would say. " Lupin said, grinning. With the slightly twitchy Lupin in tow, Harry and Ron followed Hermione's steps out into the garden. Everything had been set up, and it was gorgeous. The decorator who had made up the platform had truly outdone herself, with amazing bouquets that lined the back of the platform, and a hanging of Holly, laced with white roses, and in a twist of humor, mistletoe planted just about in perfect positioning as to where the two couples' heads would be when they kissed.

Half an hour later, everyone was settled. The audience was seated in chairs, and everyone else was in positions for the ceremonies. A trumpet sounded, and Harry, who had been waiting with Lupin, and beside Charlie, who was Bill's Best Man, who started to walk up the aisle, Harry and Charlie leading their respective grooms. After Harry and Charlie had moved into their respective areas, the same trumpet sounded again, in another slightly more cheery key, and Ginny and Gabrielle were seen leading Fleur in, while Tonks, who had no close female relative, was led in by a wet faced and beaming Mrs. Weasley. Harry's eyes caught Ginny. Her smile was radiant, he noticed, but somewhat plastered. Harry knew immediately why this was. Ginny had never totally approved of Fleur, but finally reconciled with her when she realized that she was just going to have to accept Fleur into the family.

The vows took some time to read, as there were two couples, as opposed to a more traditional one. Afterwards, the dancing began. Mr. Weasley had booked an excellent string octet from Oxfordshire who were to provide waltzes. The band started up, and as he'd agreed to do as Best Man for Lupin, Harry shared the first dance with Tonks, who for a woman famed for her clumsiness, danced with a surprising amount of grace. Harry enjoyed dancing with Tonks, but he really wanted to dance with Ginny. Finally, he got his opportunity, when the second waltz started, as partners began to rearrange. Both Tonks and Fleur moved over to their husbands, and Harry was able to hook up with Ginny. Both were amused to see Mr. Weasley delightedly asking Mrs. Granger to dance.

"She'll be talking about that one for a few years to come." Hermione said, grinning as she took to dancing with Ron. Harry and Ginny took up positions beside Hermione and Ron, Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Granger just behind them.

"Man, Hermione's dress is pretty. She looks gorgeous." Ginny said, eyeing Hermione with unmistakable jealousy.

"So do you." Harry said, holding Ginny closer. In truth, though, Harry thought, the dress Ginny was wearing _was _very appealing. It conformed to Ginny's body perfectly, but really, Ron had been right. Fleur didn't show much dress sense at all. Pink, Fleur's first choice of color would indeed be complete mismatch with Ginny's hair, but the pale gold she had decided on in the end seemed to overpower Ginny's hair, as Harry reckoned Fleur had done on purpose, but it prevented Ginny from showing off her hair, and Harry loved Ginny's hair. Harry did not hold Ginny in the classic way for a waltz, but held her close, his arms around her waist, allowing her to dance against his chest, and him to rest his head on the top of hers. Discreetly, as the song wound down, Harry kissed the crown of her head. It had been a very wonderful dance, and Harry sat down next to Ron, feeling very content. By the lazy smile he wore, Harry could tell that Ron felt the same. The two contented themselves in watching Ginny dance with Mr. Granger and Hermione with Bill, while Fleur and Lupin danced together, and Tonks with Mr. Weasley.

After a pixie's age, the whole thing was finally over. Ron and Hermione were engaged in a conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Granger. As it turned out, Hermione, in one of her many letters to her mother, had informed them of going out with Ron, and they had wanted to meet him, and though coming to Ron's eldest brother's wedding an excellent vehicle for doing so. Everyone else was pitching in to return the Burrow to its normal state. Ginny came up beside Harry, and slipped her hand around his waist, and rested her head on his shoulder. Harry put his arm around her shoulders, breathing deeply, loving her flowery scent.

"Look how busy everyone is." Ginny said, looking at Harry. "We could have a few minutes to ourselves." Harry looked down at her, and noticed the wicked grin that she had given him the previous night was back on her face. Harry also noticed that her thumb was slightly directed to the wood next to where they had played Quidditch last evening.

"Yeah, that sounds good." Harry had been thinking that a few minutes alone with Ginny would indeed be nice. The most time he'd had alone with her would have been the previous night, and due to his raging emotions, and with all that had happened that day, he had fallen asleep pretty quickly.

"Well, come on, then." Ginny said happily. She led him towards the wood. They walked through the wood for a few minutes, until they finally found a clearing with a pond. Ginny approached the pond and took her shoes off, and dived in. She surfaced a few minutes later, shining from dampness.

"Well, it's a bit cold but quite enjoyable. Are you coming?" Not really sure of what he was doing, Harry took his shoes off and jumped in as well, swimming up to her side. His first thought was how stunning she looked with her dress clinging to her form like that, because it was so wet. She was _so _attractive. Her body was very well formed for her age and she was tall for a girl and wonderfully graceful. Harry began to kiss her. He started with her cheeks and began to let his lips explore her entire face. She gave an ecstatic groan as he kissed her forehead, and again reached for his shirt. As Harry reached out for the lacings on the back of Ginny's dress, he gently guided them back to the shore. Within minutes, they were back on dry land. Harry made to get his wand as Ginny reached for his pants, but she stopped him, looking exhilarated.

"No resisting charm, Harry." It wasn't a command, and Harry felt more as though she had sung it. He threw his wand aside with the rest of their clothes. Being their first time, Harry was very careful to not hurt Ginny, while they moved around, groaning in absolute bliss. Harry was sure he'd never been this close to heaven. Even though they'd stopped rolling, Harry still clung to Ginny, breathing hard. Words could definitely not express how he felt at that moment.

The sun had set at least another two feet before Harry realized that he had been out so long.

"Ginny, I think we'd better go," Harry said. "Your mum might be starting to worry." Ginny nodded, and the two charmed themselves clean, as the bank of the pond had gotten them muddy, and they proceeded to charm their clothes dry and put them back on.

A few minutes later, they entered the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger seemed to be discussing Hermione's dress, as it was on the table, and both were admiring it. Mr. Granger was showing a delighted Mr. Weasley a collection of dentist's tools, and had given some of them to Mr. Weasley, as well as numerous plugs for Mr. Weasley's collection.

"Hey Harry." Ron said softly. Harry, wondering why he had spoken so softly, wandered over. Hermione, who had changed back into her everyday clothes, was fast asleep on Ron's lap. "She is so adorable when she's asleep." Ron said softly and lovingly, stroking Hermione's hair so that she wouldn't wake. Harry smiled at Ron. He looked at Ginny, who indicated that she would rather like to go to sleep, so Harry bade Ron goodnight, and followed Ginny up to her bedroom. The two, having changed into their night things, climbed into bed together. Ginny looked sleepily at Harry.

"I heard Remus talking a couple days before you arrived," she said. "He was talking about taking you to your parents' house." Harry looked at her.

"What?" He asked, softly disbelieving.

"Yes." Ginny said. "Harry, I want to come with you. I think you are going to need me." Harry nodded. His brain was going numb. This was the place he had always thought of, dreamed of, and yet, terrified of seeing. He knew that there would be memories etched in the very air when he set foot in there, and things he would want to see like noting else, and other things he'd rather not see as long as he lived. The worst part would be that he knew his parents' graves would be there, and that was the most terrifying of all. Another part of Harry, though, really wanted to go there. He knew that he had to see the place at some time of his life, and that to really become an adult, he'd have to confront those fears, and he found it right that he confront them with Ginny beside him. This comforting thought in his head, he rolled over, snuggled up to Ginny, and as he felt her warm breath on his chest, fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3: Pasts

THREE: Pasts

Harry would have given anything to have woken up peacefully, but that was not to be. Having spent so much time on everything that had happened yesterday from the weddings to this and that, Harry and Ginny were quite content to sleep in. It had initially seemed so easy, having already successfully pulled it off once, that Harry and Ginny might spend another night in the same bed. Harry, for one, had not set his plans with any regard to Mrs. Weasley's regular habits as to check on her children in the morning.

Harry was deep in sleep when a sudden beam of light cut across his face. Mrs. Weasley had come into Ginny's room and had opened the curtains, obviously wanting to inquire as to why her daughter had not yet gotten up.

"Ginny, dear, it's getting late," Mrs. Weasley said. "Almost everyone else has gotten up and…and…GINEVRA WEASLEY!!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed, "what _are _you doing?!" Harry jumped a mile, as though he had been scalded. He tore Ginny's top sheet off her bed, covered himself as best as possible, and plastered himself against the wall, his heart beating painfully fast. Mrs. Weasley looked down at Ginny.

"Where…when…how long…have you…been…doing this?" Mrs. Weasley's words were constricted due to anger and shock. Though Harry had been petrified by this encounter, Ginny seemed quite unabashed, though she was showing signs of anger at this disturbance.

"Mum!" Ginny spat, "What are you doing in here anyway? What does it matter to you that Harry and I were cuddling anyway? I told you we were going out."

"Yes, dear, I know you two are going out, but for goodness sake, cuddling…in the same BED! You're not even married yet!" Ginny sighed, looking nearly as exhausted as when Harry had seen her after all her trips to Diagon Alley with Fleur.

"You're so overprotective, mum. I swear nothing happened last night. I _promise_." Mrs. Weasley looked down, apparently lost for a response, though she still looked livid. She was helped by the appearance of Mr. Weasley, who had clearly come to investigate the source of the commotion.

"Arthur!" She barked, "I just saw…well, I just saw that Ginny and Harry have been sharing a bed." Harry expected Mr. Weasley to start raging like Mrs. Weasley had, but instead, he approached them. He looked at Ginny with concern.

"Did anything happen last night?" He asked her quietly. Ginny shook her head, irritated. Mr. Weasley looked back at his wife, took in her expression, and broke out in a mischievous grin. "Ah, come on, Molly. It's not like we weren't like that when we were their age."

"Yes, but…"Mrs. Weasley began.

"Now, now, Molly," Mr. Weasley said, looking unusually stern, "there's really no need for this. Everything's fine." Mr. Weasley looked at Harry. "Harry," he said, "Please get dressed and come downstairs. Remus would rather like to talk to you." Mr. Weasley withdrew from the room. Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley followed.

"Honestly!" Ginny said, closing the door behind Mrs. Weasley. "She is so overprotective! Doesn't she realize I'm not a child any more?" Ginny went about dressing herself, muttering under her breath. Harry didn't really pay attention until he caught her ranting about how Mrs. Weasley probably had not caught Ron and Hermione yet. A few minutes later, fully dressed, Harry went into the kitchen to find Lupin.

"Morning, Moony." Harry said, locating Lupin.

"Good morning, Harry," Lupin said, grinning. "Busy evening, I hear." He and Tonks roared with laughter. Harry frowned. "Aw, cheer up, Harry," Lupin said. "Here, have some coffee. We have much to talk about."

"Indeed," Mr. Weasley added. "Harry, I do not mind as much as Molly that you spent last night with Ginny…" He paused, allowing a renewed outburst of giggles from Lupin and Tonks, "but Harry, she is my daughter, and I cannot stress how much I hope you will take it easy with her."

"I will," Harry assured him. "You know I don't want to hurt her."

"I don't just mean physical pain, Harry. You know that, I trust."

"I do," said Harry. "And I do not want to hurt her at all…in any way." Mr. Weasley seemed satisfied. Lupin looked at Harry, and then looked at Tonks, clearly unsure as to what to say. Tonks gave him a 'get on with it' look, and Lupin cleared his throat nervously.

"Harry, it is the wish of the Order of the Phoenix that you join. Right away. Harry, I know Dumbledore didn't want what the two of you were doing to get out, as it really only concerned the two of you, but Kingsley found Dumbledore's pensieve and found most of the memories you and he studied. Some of the more important ones, notably the one from Horace Slughorn, were not there. It seems Dumbledore was guessing something of this nature to occur, and he bewitched it to reject the memory shortly after you two went off in search of the Horcrux. However, there was enough there that Kingsley was able to piece together your quest." Harry was having trouble comprehending what Lupin was saying.

"So…you want to help me defeat Voldemort?" Harry asked, trying to not sound accusatory or incredulous.

"No, Harry, not defeat him. We all accept that you will have to do that on your own. We merely want to do everything and anything we can to insure that you are as ready as you can be for all this." Lupin said. Harry nodded. Here was a way he could not object to their services, and ever since Ginny had told him about the trip to his parents' house, and her offer to be by his side, he had thought about it all long and hard, and had decided that there would be great advantages to having all his friends help him search for the remaining Horcruxes.

"Right, I'm in." Harry said. "It makes sense…but I don't want to disrespect Dumbledore."

"You won't disrespect him, Harry," Mr. Weasley said. "I had a conversation with his portrait yesterday while I was meeting with Professor McGonagall, and he stated quite clearly that he didn't care how the job was done, as long as we tried to defeat you-know-who."

"Harry," Tonks said, "Remus and I are going to give you some lessons in some essential Auror tricks. Nothing serious, just brush up on your dueling, nonverbal charms, potions and things like that, maybe wandless magic. Remus wants to work specifically with Occlumency and Legilimency, as both are essential for a really good Auror, and I will attempt to teach you how to be a Metamorphomagi. I don't know how much progress to expect." Harry's head was really reeling now. He was going to finally be part of the Order of the Phoenix, and Lupin and Tonks were going to be teaching him really advanced magic, and they were all talking about the hunt for Voldemort's Horcruxes.

"Oh, and there is one more thing, Harry." Lupin sounded very unsure of how to say what he wanted. "Harry…I would also like to take you to your parents' house. We all think it's about time you saw the place of your birth. You do not have to go, Harry, but I urge you to." Harry thought again over what he had thought about last night when Ginny had told him her suspicions. The more times the idea went through his head, the better it sounded.

"Right," he said his voice toneless, "I'll do it. I…I…I want Ginny to come, though. Ron and Hermione, too if they'd be willing."

"I doubt any of them will refuse." Mr. Weasley said very quietly.

"Let's do this sooner than later or I may change my mind." Harry said his voice still toneless.

Two hours later, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Lupin and Tonks disapparated to Godric's Hollow, to accompany Harry to his familial house. The group appeared just over the hill from the village, and so they began to walk. No one talked much, though Ron and Hermione kept stealing nervous glances at Harry, and then looking at each other, clearly at a loss as to their best friend's new mannerisms. Harry led the group, not talking, and walking much more stiffly than usual. Ginny walked by his side, not saying anything.

Harry himself was lost in his thoughts. His nerves were doing the samba, and he feared that opening his mouth might just make him vomit. Despite all he had thought back at the Burrow, nothing he could have thought about would have prepared him for this. From the moment he had arrived, he had half a mind to turn back. Harry tried to not dwell on what was going to await him when he stopped walking.

The group found a path that was starting to grow over with weeds, but shown signs of once being immaculate, and perfectly kept. A few paces later, Harry rounded a bend, and stopped dead. It was his parents' house.

The house, like the path that led to it, was showing signs of age, but retained the looks and size of a house that was once a small but impressive manor. One side of the house, however, had been all but destroyed. Harry could guess what had caused the destruction, but he didn't dare even start to try to imagine it. Not that he had to, either. This was the act of violence that had haunted his nightmares for seventeen years. The surroundings were beautiful. A lush wood surrounded the building, with a pond not unlike the one Harry had swam in at the Burrow with Ginny, and a bunch of gardens that were probably Lily's doing, and on a Weeping Willow near the house itself was the beginnings of a tree fort, with a scribbled note from James: '_Yes, Lil, I will build a railing_'. Harry tried to not dwell on the happy times he and his father might have had in that fort, teasing Lily about 'no girls allowed'.

Harry stopped at the front door of the house, and stared at the doorknob and the knocker, and felt a lump rise in his throat.

"I can't do this." He said, looking desperately at Lupin. Lupin gave him an encouraging smile.

"Yes, you can, Harry." Ginny gave Harry's hand a squeeze. Fighting back a rush of emotion, Harry slowly turned the knob. As the door opened, Harry's body tensed up alarmingly, and his hands balled into fists. Blinking back tears and gritting his teeth, he stepped over the threshold into the house. Harry had only taken a few steps when the emotions he had been trying to suppress overwhelmed him. Everywhere he turned, it seemed that a face from one of his nightmares about his parents showed itself, more vivid than he'd ever seen them. He didn't even know how he managed to get from room to room. His mind was totally numb and he couldn't think. His sense of grief was so acute that he just seemed to be unable to feel anything, and he feared that if any of his companions spoke to him, he would just break down. Harry ventured blindly from room to room, not really taking in what he was seeing, glancing at a picture occasionally, but putting it aside as quick as he could, as the pain that had developed in his entire body seemed to grow with every step he took.

He entered the drawing room, and looked around. This was perhaps the most untouched looking room, with many large bookshelves covered in books, and two desks situated near a very large, stained glass window. Harry sat down at the desk nearest the window, and stared down at a plaque on it. It simply read, _'James Potter'_. Tears flowed from Harry's eyes, as he started opening every drawer in the desk. He found a bottle of cologne in the upper left hand drawer. He uncapped it, took a sniff, and pocketed it. The other desk, his mother's, contained all sorts of poetry presumably written by Lily Potter. The lump in his throat grew as he read a particular one she had entitled '_We Friends Four_'

_We friends four_

_We love until the day ends_

_We do not fear_

_But for fear itself_

_With my friends four_

_I know no bounds_

_Nothing can harm me_

_When they embrace me_

_My son looks at me_

_And my eyes stare back._

_My husband ruffles Harry's hair_

_Then mine,_

_Then his own._

_We kiss Harry goodnight_

_Hold him when he cries_

_We embrace each other._

_I tell James he is handsome_

_He tells me I am gorgeous_

_Lupin tells me I am kind_

_Sirius brightens my day with a laugh_

_Harry gives me love_

_I can never repay him._

_Because of my friends four_

_I love forevermore._

Harry pocketed the poem as well, got up from the desk, and walked through the door that led to his parents' bedroom. There wasn't nearly anything left of the bedroom, because the room Harry was trying to avoid, his nursery, was the next chamber over. Harry lay down on his parents' bed, misery coursing through him. He rolled over and lay his head on the pillow on the left side, and he could swear he could smell some of the cologne that he had just pocketed on the sheets still, mingled with the smell of sweat and mold. He smelled the other pillow, and it smelt like a lily. It was all Harry could do to keep from weeping. To give himself time, Harry contented himself with looking through the end table beside Lily's end of the bed. All that was in there was a rather large locket. Harry opened the locket, and to a fresh wave of grief, saw Muggle pictures of his parents (or so he assumed, since the pictures weren't moving), beside which were two rings. The outer ones were much larger, with two diamonds encased in them. The one on Lily's side was Emerald Green, while James' was a dark, vibrant red, much like the red of the Gryffindor house colors. Harry also pocketed the locket, but this time, he shifted himself, so that he could be sure that Ginny wouldn't see the locket.

How Harry had managed to survive his tour of the nursery, one could only guess. It was almost completely destroyed, but the bit of wall that did remain, showed remnants of being light blue in color. He could only find pieces of his crib, and bits and pieces of what looked like they might have belonged to a mobile. This time he did not, nor did he think he could, stop a small sob from escaping him, and so it did. Ginny rubbed his back, held his hand tighter, and kissed his shoulder.

"Perhaps you've had enough for today," Lupin said almost inaudibly.

"No," Harry said, his voice completely constricted. "Let me see the graves. I need to see the graves." Seeing Harry's determined eyes, Lupin nodded, and led Harry to his parents' final resting place.

The headstones were at once the most beautiful and hideous things Harry had ever seen. He knelt down by them, examining them. The first one read,

_Lily E. Potter_

_Beloved friend, wife and mother_

_Who was fiercely faithful to those she loved_

_Right until the end._

"_Success is measured in love"_

The other read,

_James 'Prongs' Potter_

_A man not to be reckoned with _

_Who had a heart too big for his chest._

"_The man with a heart is God's son."_

Harry traced his finger over his father's headstone, but could no longer hold in any of his emotions. Tears coursed down his cheeks like they were rivers. At first he cried softly and slowly, but Ginny pulled him gently into her embrace, letting him cry onto her shoulders, and he started to truly weep. Hermione massaged his back, while Ron, Lupin and Tonks looked on, their own eyes wet. Finally, having emptied himself of almost all his tears, he allowed himself to be embraced by all who were present, before nearly fainting from exhaustion and overwhelm. Lupin held him steady while everyone apparated back to the Burrow.

Harry felt so drained that he just didn't seem to be thinking anymore. No one spoke; even the air around them seemed to be still. It was only when they opened the door to the Burrow and Mrs. Weasley let out a strangled scream that he realized they were back at the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley had made to run to Harry, but thankfully both Mr. Weasley and Lupin held her back. Harry willingly allowed Ginny to steer him into an armchair by the fire. Harry fingered the bottle of cologne in his pocket, tears stinging at his eyes again. Everyone eyed him concernedly, even Mrs. and Mr. Granger, who Harry guessed, had been told by Mrs. Weasley where Harry was. Ginny stayed beside him, for which he was glad. It was somehow comforting to feel her warm weight against his cold, grief stricken body.

Dinner was a very subdued affair. Harry didn't talk much, and ate even less. He drunk through glass after glass of mead, causing concerned looks from the adults, especially Lupin.

"Harry, drinking this mead isn't going to make anything better, you know." Lupin said quietly.

"I know," Harry mumbled, amazed that his tongue was still working; he hardly knew what he was saying. "Saw 'em in every room. Saw 'em. Don't want to think. Live…don't want…" he abruptly waved his wand, making a bucket appear, and vomited.

"Harry, you've really had too much." Lupin took Harry's glass away from him, and handed it to Mr. Granger who was helping Mrs. Weasley with the dishes. Harry realized, suddenly, that Mrs. Granger had sat down beside him. She was looking at him with eyes full of concern. Drunk as he was, Harry was embarrassed. Having spent so much time with Ginny over the wedding, Hermione had never had the opportunity to introduce him properly. He shuddered, and disappeared into the bucket again, Mrs. Granger holding his hair back.

"Harry…" she paused, measuring her words. "Alasdair's parents died when he was very young, too. Hermione never got to know her paternal grandparents." More tears leaked out of Harry's eyes. Hermione had never told him this, but it was comforting to know that, at least in part, there was someone Harry might be able to talk to who knew the feeling of not being raised by your parents.

"I think…I might go to bed now." Harry said.

"Yes, dear, you really should." Mrs. Granger told him.

"I'll take you up." Ron said, suddenly appearing, "come on, mate." Harry did not hesitate, but gave in to Ron assisting him to his feet. Ron helped him up to his bed in Ron's room. Somehow it felt almost as good to be half carried by Ron as it did by Ginny. Of course, Harry knew that Ron had always been like his brother, and that he felt he could trust Ron with anything, but he just couldn't explain why it hit him so hard right then. Nor did he think that a bed could be such a welcome sight, but as he lay down, he had just barely finished drunkenly bidding Ron goodnight when sleep overcame him.

The next morning, Harry's head felt like it was being hammered on by a railroad spike. He didn't even want to open his eyes. It wasn't until he felt a soft hand petting his forehead gently with a warm washcloth, that he dared open his eyes. He was surprised to see Hermione there, thinking that it was Ginny's touch that he was feeling.

"Hi, Harry," she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper for which Harry was incredibly thankful for. "How are you feeling?" she looked at him, concerned, looking amazingly like Harry's blurred memory of her mother the night before. "Mum told me what she said to you last night, Harry, and both she and dad want to talk to you if you like, once you're ready to come downstairs." She ran a finger down his cheek, and re-soaked the washcloth and reapplied it to his forehead. Harry gave her a weak smile in thanks. He had such wonderful friends. Ginny's visit had been a memorable one. She had not spoken, but merely lay down beside him, and snuggled him to the point where he was becoming so hypnotized by her embrace, and his head was pounding so badly that he nearly fell asleep again. In fact, he wondered if he would ever feel good again. Thankfully, when Mrs. Weasley visited him, she had found a charm for headache pain relief. Without the pain in his head, he walked downstairs feeling like he could eat the house.

"Good morning, son!" Alasdair Granger called, waving cheerily at Harry as he entered. Before him was a meal of hot cherry soup. "I used to be a bit of a hard partier when I was in college," Mr. Granger said, "and I find this to be an excellent remedy to a hangover. Eat up son, I reckon you must be starving. You spent half the day in that bed of yours." Harry smiled at him in gratitude. His first spoonful of cherry soup felt like a bite of heaven. His veins and limbs, which had felt like they were made of lead, suddenly felt like he was in the warm sunlight.

"Thanks, Mr. Granger," Harry said, "this is wonderful." He smiled.

"You are welcome. Sarah and I have been quite excited to meet you, you know. The tales Hermione's told us." Harry smiled again, amazed that after all that happened that he was still able to do so.

As it turned out, Alasdair Granger had been exactly the person Harry needed to talk to. His parents had died when he was three, and his aunt who raised him had not even mentioned it until he was twelve, and he had not visited his parents' graves until he was fifteen, and even then, he'd snuck out from his overly-protective aunt's house. Though his parents' house had not been destroyed, he immediately knew what Harry meant when he told of how everything he'd seen within the house seemed to show Harry his parents' faces. They had started by making small talk, telling each other about themselves, and then started talking guardedly about their experiences, but by the end, neither was hiding anything from the other. The best part, perhaps, was after Harry and Mr. Granger had stopped talking about it all, Hermione started asking questions about the grandparents she never knew. Afraid, as Harry had been, of his feelings, Mr. Granger had not answered any of those questions, but on that day, after talking with Harry, it seemed that Mr. Granger was finally ready to confront his fear, and answered all of Hermione's questions, which by the way she looked, she had been asking him since long before Harry knew her. By the end, Hermione was in his lap, and both were sobbing. Hermione looked at Harry, suddenly.

"Harry, you…you…smell different." She gasped, between sobs.

"Yeah. I found…well, I found…some of dad's cologne at the house yesterday…I'm wearing some." Harry said somewhat embarrassed, but allowing a proud smile to cross his face.

The day had been one of a lot of self discovery for Harry. Lupin had wanted to take him back to Godric's Hollow, so he could examine the Smoking room in the house, saying there was something he felt Harry should see. Harry, however, not wanting to have to examine more painful memories about his parents, the ones from the day before still so fresh and haunting, declined. In the end, Lupin agreed to go get the thing in the Smoking room on his own, understanding Harry's reasons for not wanting to go back.

Harry spent most of the day on his Firebolt, finding the fresh air and practicing his best Quidditch moves a very good way to burn off his some of his grief, and be able to concentrate on something other than all he had seen. He happily went into the past when Ron, Hermione and Ginny decided join him to play a bit of two on two Quidditch not unlike what they did little more than a year ago. The four left the pitch feeling considerably exhilarated, and walked back into the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley had a wonderful lunch ready. Lupin was back, and he had retrieved the thing from the Smoking room at Godric's Hollow. It was a tapestry not unlike the one that Harry had viewed three years ago in the old family house of his late godfather, except that it was a vibrant shade of red.

"You really should look at that," Lupin encouraged Harry. "It's got some important stuff." Harry unrolled it. It was big, and it fell to the floor, making him look like a person weaving a quilt. This earned him a rather amused look from Ginny, but Harry, who had immersed himself in the tapestry, had not noticed. With another pang, Harry had found his parents' names. He followed the long line that was connected to the name _James Potter_, and then, with a jolt, saw that near the top of the long line of Potters going all the way back to the Middle Ages, the name, _Godric Gryffindor_. He looked up at Lupin.

"Did you know?" Lupin studied him. Harry was looking at him with a decided determination. Lupin weighed his words.

"Yes, Harry, I did know. However, it wasn't until recently that I was able to grasp what significance this connection might have had." Harry's mind, once again, felt like it was spinning to maintain a hold on reality. He was beginning to see more and more parallels between him and Voldemort, and it scared him. Being as much like Voldemort as to both have had ancestry with two of the founders of Hogwarts somehow was not appealing to him.

The rest of the day was spent just in good cheer. It was funny to see Fleur, who had spent the day after her wedding to Bill in a romantic hideaway planning her honeymoon, not bothering to turn on her charm and arrogance that, as a half-veela, was part of her nature. Instead, like everyone else, she seemed to be concerned for Harry, making sure he was alright, after what had happened to him the day before. Harry, Lupin and Tonks were excitedly planning lessons for him, which would commence the next day. After seeing his parents' final resting place, a lot of Harry's sadness had resettled itself in his chest as anger. His hatred for Voldemort was so much that he was beginning to see what Dumbledore had meant, when he had told Harry that in light of everything that had happened that it was unique that Harry could still feel love. Lupin had decided to call a special meeting of the Order of the Phoenix so that Harry could be properly inducted as a member.

By a quarter to five, most of the Order had arrived, and were treated to an excellent dinner of Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger's best Shepherd's Pie. The meal was virtually silent, except for the clatter of the forks and knives on the plates. The Burrow had been a very subdued household after Harry had returned from Godric's Hollow, but now, the air was tense and serious. Finally, Harry's transfiguration teacher from Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall, who appeared to be in charge after Dumbledore's death, cleared her throat.

"I would like to call this meeting of the Order to order at five-oh-six." She said.

"Seconded." Harry and Lupin said in unison. McGonagall looked at the two of them, who were stifling laughs, and though at first she looked wrong-footed and patronizing, allowed herself a small grin. Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Mr. and Mrs. Granger made to leave the room.

"Hang on a minute, guys," Harry called after them, "it is my wish that you stay." The rest of the Order looked at Harry, but said nothing.

"Well, as you all know," Professor McGonagall continued, "the Order has unanimously voted for Mr. Potter's acceptance into the Order, and we are here tonight to discuss any future plans Mr. Potter may have for the hunt against Lord Voldemort.

"Mr. Potter, we will now perform a little charm to welcome you into the fold." Professor McGonagall said. She took out her wand, and approached Harry, extending her hand. Harry took it, and Professor McGonagall placed her wand where their hands met.

"Do you, Harry James Potter, agree to our rules, agree that henceforth, your energies shall be directed toward the Order of the Phoenix?" Professor McGonagall said.

"Yes," Harry replied. A flame of blue shot out of the wand, and illuminated the two figures.

"Do you swear loyalty and faithfulness to the Order to best help them as you see necessary?"

"Yes."

"I pronounce you a official member of the Order of the Phoenix." Another blue flame shot out of Professor McGonagall's wand, but the sheen of blue that had surrounded Harry and McGonagall now glowed gold with a touch of red around the borders. Everyone clapped politely, though many faces showed a desire to clap harder.

"So, Harry, do you have any ideas about how we might fight?" Lupin asked Harry. He stood, facing the others to reply.

"Yes," Harry said. "I have just come to realize that we need as many people as we can possibly bring into the order. Everyone from those whom we can convince to Ministry workers, and I know that this is supposed to be a group of only overage wizards, but I think we should look into getting some of the older Hogwarts students involved. Perhaps fourth year and older." He looked at Hermione. "Do you still have the list of all those involved with 'Dumbledore's Army'?" He asked her.

"No, Harry, I'm sorry. I haven't seen it since we got ratted out."

"Do you think you can still remember most of the students we were working with?"

"Yes."

"And the contact coins, do we still have those?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think they still work?" Hermione looked skeptical for a moment.

"Probably, but I think we should arrange a trial," she said. Harry nodded.

"You are certainly thinking big, Harry, are you sure that this is the right thing to do?" Lupin said uncertainly.

"Absolutely," Harry responded. "Voldemort's gonna have a big army, so we're going to need a big one, too. But I think," He looked seriously at everyone, "that we also need to swear that we will trust and love each other. If Dumbledore is right, and I'm more certain than ever that he is, that love is one of the most powerful forms of magic," he looked pointedly at Ginny, "then by Merlin, we're going to need to trust and love each other to bring him down." A shocked silence followed Harry's words. Finally, someone spoke.

"You're a sharp boy, Potter." Alastor Moody growled, "But what about the Muggles?"

"Well, we're going to need to get them involved, too I think." Harry said slowly.

"Get involved how?" Tonks asked.

"Nothing really serious," Harry said, "we just need to inform them of what we are all going to face." Harry said. "They are, after all, in this war just as much as we are, even if they cannot take a more active role in fighting." Harry's gaze drifted to where Mr. and Mrs. Granger sat. "I am right, I hope, in thinking I can count on you to help in that department?" Harry asked, looking at Mr. Granger. He nodded.

"Absolutely."

"Good, thanks, Alasdair."

"Well," Lupin said, hesitantly, "I think we all agree on this course of action. We ought to run a vote, however."

"Seconded." Moody barked.

"All in favor of approving Harry's course of action?" McGonagall called out. Everyone's hand was in the air. "Well, that's a majority. Motion passed." McGonagall said.

"There's just one more thing," Lupin called out. "As you all know, we need a new secret-keeper, as our old one is of late. I make a motion that our newest member ought to be allowed the first nomination."

"Seconded." Tonks said. Harry grinned sheepishly.

"I nominate Remus Lupin." Harry said, feeling a little warm in the face.

"Funny," Lupin said in a mock thoughtful voice, "I was going to say…well…I nominate Harry Potter." Harry looked at Lupin, frowning.

"I think it'll be too dangerous if I'm the secret-keeper," Harry said, "because I'm most certainly going to be the ones the Death Eaters go for, and it would be far too easy for them to get information from me."

"Harry," Lupin said, resting a hand on Harry's shoulder, "I think the Death Eaters aren't going to care who they go after. I'm just as much a target, and, well…you're younger, Harry, and made of stronger stuff than I am. You will make a much better secret-keeper." After a vote, Harry had won the majority of the votes, though he wasn't altogether pleased, still feeling that Lupin was the best one for the job.

"Well," Professor McGonagall said after Harry had become secret-keeper, "I think that's about all of importance for tonight. I call this meeting to close at six fifty six."

"Seconded." Harry said, dully. Having gone through so much in one day, he had not stopped to consider how tired he really was. Everyone started to wind down after the visiting members of the Order had left. Harry was glad to get the meeting over with. He was simply exhausted. He walked into the living room, and sat down. Ginny came up and cuddled up to him. Suddenly, they heard a stifled sob. Ron was sitting beside them, Hermione once again fast asleep on his lap, her head resting against his chest.

"Ron…what's wrong?" Harry asked him. Ron looked at Harry, who was shocked to see that Ron's eyes were damp.

"I'm scared," Ron admitted, "I just don't know what to do. I overheard dad and Moody talking before Moody left, and they were saying that the Death Eaters have already started killing. They were comparing it to this thing that happened to the Muggles back in the 1940s they were calling it the 'Hollow Cause' or something like that…"

"The Holocaust?"

"Yes, exactly. I heard Moody asking dad if the Order is going to be willing, especially the students, to give an arm, leg or even a life. Well, I will of course, but suppose something happens?" He looked down at Hermione, whose snores echoed Crookshanks, her cat's, purr, and tears leaked out his eyes. "What…" he gulped, "what if something happens to Hermione? I don't want her to die. I love her so much." Ron gave a another soft sob, resting his face in Hermione's hair, tears now spilling down his face. Mrs. Granger was observing the scene, smiling at Ron with equally teary eyes. Harry put his arm around Ron, at a complete loss as what to say, and with his other arm, pulled Ginny closer to him, and followed Ron's gaze into the fire. As Ginny snuggled even closer, Harry removed his arm from Ron, and pulled Ginny into a close embrace as she fell asleep. Her eyes were shut tightly, and like Hermione, looked absolutely adorable fast asleep. Harry kissed her again and again on the head.

As Ron had said, what was coming was terrifying. Harry held Ginny as close as he could, savoring the feeling of her body against his, trying not to think about what could happen down the road.


	4. Chapter 4: Purgatory

FOUR: Purgatory

Regulus Black had spent the last three years locked up in a self imprisonment of the basement of his family's old home, Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and it seemed unlikely that he would ever leave. His purgatory was due to the fact that he had tried to escape being a Death Eater a long time ago, and that was expressly forbidden by the Dark Lord's ways. It was eternal servitude or death. Regulus seriously wished he had his older brother, Sirius' spine. If he had, he would never been forced to spend his time locked in his own basement, eating live rats. If he had had his brother's gut, he would not have forced himself to believe in all of his parents' prejudices against Muggle born witches and wizards, only for the sake of acceptance. Sirius had managed to live a good life without the love of their parents. Regulus should have seen it then. His parents never loved him, as he had thought for years, but had put him on a sort of soapbox, as though he were nothing more than a hunting trophy.

Regulus looked around the basement. It had no windows, and was covered in grime. The only thing that made it inhabitable for Regulus was that his father had made the basement into a sort of convent, where he brought back Muggles, Muggle-borns and Squibs to be imprisoned, and "taught" the ways of true wizarding, which was by no means anything more than a lame excuse to dab in a bit of Muggle torture that could go unnoticed by the Ministry of Magic. Not that Mr. Black ought to have worried about the Ministry, as he loved to torture the Muggles very much in their own fashion. That is to say, without magic. The basement was, by all accounts, a terrifying sight to behold, and after his first week in his imprisonment, he was beginning to see why Sirius had hated their parents so.

Regulus himself looked like he had lived after he died. He was skeletally thin and white as a sheet from having been shut away from the sun and fresh air for so long. His diet, lacking most every essential nutrient needed for a healthy living, had been causing him physical pain, too. He could scarcely move, and spent most of his time lying down. The only time he ever got up was to relieve himself, and it was not easy to do, as he was beginning to get all sorts of infections, including a UTI. The fact that he had made a pile of waste only a few feet away from where he slept was not helping him, as he was now constantly breathing in microscopic bacteria from his own feces.

Any other man in Regulus' predicament would surely have died, but Regulus had a reason to keep going. He just hoped somebody might figure out what it was.

Draco and Narcissa Malfoy had been sent by Severus Snape to Salem, Massachusetts, in the United States, for their exile from the Dark Lord. Salem was rather famous for its witch trials that had happened there a long time ago, and it was a joke among many of the wizards that lived in Salem that the Muggles in the town thought that there were no longer any witches or wizards in the area. Instead, all the real witches and wizards would go have a laugh on Halloween day dressing up in Muggle wizarding costumes, and go around making a spectacle with the other Muggles and making fun of themselves.

This town, however, was not at all to the taste of either Draco or Narcissa. Both prowled about their business as usual, but the atmosphere in their house was always cold and tense. Neither spoke much to the other. Living like Muggles made them irritable. Nevertheless, while in exile, a strange change was beginning to come over Draco. Living alone with his mother was, despite their shared irritability, very different from the years where his father lived with them. It was, Draco finally realized, that he felt like there was someone who was there for him and who loved him. Draco knew that his mother had always loved him, or at least she showed it better than Lucius Malfoy, but Draco had always thought it to be a hollow sort of love. Overprotective and controlling, and hadn't she always played along with Lucius? But now that the two had spent some time alone together, Draco realized that his mother had been just that—_playing_. She had never wanted to be a bully like her husband, but it appeared that Narcissa feared her husband, just as Draco secretly feared his father. Now Narcissa was demonstrating her new colors; that of a woman who truly has gentleness and kindness. This newfound kindness had wrought a startling change on Draco. He now realized that he had a heart. Memories started flashing painfully through his head. A memory of coming back from his first year at Hogwarts stuck out particularly vivid.

Draco had just entered his house. Neither one of his parents had gone to pick him up from King's Cross station. They had merely hired ministry drivers to escort Draco home. He burst into the drawing room, aching to pass on all of his tales to his parents. He had taken both of them by surprise as he entered. His mother seemed genuinely happy to see him, but his father looked at him with cold indifference. Narcissa took a nervous glance at her husband, and then took a brave attempt at breaking the sudden, icy silence that had permeated the room.

"Um, Draco, dear, tell daddy and I what happened at school!" Her voice was falsely cheery and her smile did not extend to her eyes, which kept shooting nervous glances at Lucius.

"Well…" Draco began hesitantly, "it was alright, I guess. Not much really happened. Just got the introductory stuff to what we'll be studying in later years. I met Harry Potter on the train, though." At this, Lucius fixed Draco with a piercing gaze.

"You met Potter?" Lucius' voice was soft and icy. "I do not want to hear Potter's name again under this roof. Do I make myself plain?" he said commandingly.

"Yes, sir." Draco said, now twiddling his thumbs nervously. Narcissa looked again at Lucius, and again tried her cheery voice.

"Who else did you meet, dear?" Narcissa asked, beads of sweat forming on her brow.

"Well…" Draco seemed to stutter a bit. "T…there's this girl, Her…Hermione Granger. She's a mud…mudblood. She's actually rather good in magic, really, and kind...kinda c…cute." Lucius looked livid.

"She's no good at what she does." He stated, in that same icy tone.

"N…no, dad, actually she is kinda good."

"No, Draco, she is no good at what she does. You said so yourself. Do not argue." Draco bowed his head. "I expect you've met the second youngest Weasley, then. That is another name I will not have mentioned in my house."

"Weasley's kind of funny…" Draco said uncertainly.

"I see. I see." Lucius said. He made as if to turn back to his desk, but…SLAP! He ran his fist hard over Draco's face. Draco fell backward, shock coursing through him. He felt tears stinging in his eyes.

"Lucius!" Narcissa gasped.

"Go to your room! No dinner for you, young man!" Lucius had not raised his voice much, but the iciness in his tone had nearly doubled. "And those had better not be tears I see in your eyes. Now go to your room, you useless excuse for a human." Draco hastened to obey, not really wanting to be in his father's company any longer. In the cold confines of his room, Draco's blood surged with hatred. A part of him wanted to be able to love his father, but it seemed nearly impossible, so Draco lay down on his bed, wishing either sleep or death to overcome him. He did not even notice his mother come softly into the room and plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

Maybe this was why part of the reformed Draco was suddenly screaming out for Snape. He was the only male in Draco's life who had treated him with anything befitting a father. Snape had always tried to find out if he could help Draco in his task to kill Dumbledore. Draco had always believed this to be Snape fulfilling his promise that he made to Narcissa with the Unbreakable Vow and trying to steal his glory, but it had been more than that. Snape had known how unlikely it would be that Draco could complete the task, and he was well aware of the danger Draco would be should he fail. Snape ended up killing Dumbledore himself, shouldering the burden that should have been Draco's, and instead, allowed Draco and Narcissa to go safely into hiding.

Draco was also surprised at how much he missed Dumbledore. Dumbledore had always been shamed by many wizarding families who believed in wizarding pride, but Dumbledore had also always been kind, nurturing, and just about as modest and selfless as anyone who had his amount of power could be. Like so many others, Draco had, more than he would have ever admitted before, profited greatly from knowing Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore had offered Draco guidance, and had extended his hand to Draco to come over to the right side the very night he was killed. The arrogance and greed that had become Draco's shield for all those years simply refused to see what Dumbledore was trying to get through to him.

As if Draco's thoughts were a signal outside of the hut he was sharing with his mother, the front door flew open, and the person Draco had so been hoping to see stood framed in the door. Severus Snape.

"Severus!" Narcissa said with a voice that registered nothing but shock, "What are you doing here?"

"May I come in?" Snape asked, sounding uncharacteristically worried, "Once again I find myself hard pressed for time."

"But of course!" Narcissa said, her shock not dampened by this side of Snape that he had never been shown before.

"What is it, Professor?" Draco asked, feeling concerned, an emotion he was not used to feeling.

"Not now, Draco." He turned to Narcissa. "I am here because I think the time is ripe for a change of direction." Snape did not appear to want to elaborate, but seeing that as neither Narcissa nor Draco seemed to have comprehended him, he continued. Draco realized that for the first time since he'd known him, Snape was looking uncomfortable. "I…I have decided to go back to being a double agent. I will now be putting my efforts into assisting the Order of the Phoenix."

"They'll never take you back, Severus! I don't think they'll exactly be forgiving, especially Potter, after what you've done."

"Potter?" Snape said, uncomprehending.

"Haven't you heard the rumors?" Narcissa asked, shocked and indignantly, "the Order voted unanimously to allow Potter to join, in light of his status as 'The Chosen One'". Snape smirked.

"You are right, Narcissa. The Order will doubtlessly be hostile to me; however I think I may have found something that will make them think twice." He turned to Draco. "I think, Draco, it is best if you renounce the old ways. You have surely seen that being on Dumbledore's side will offer your talents much more scope. I have thoroughly thought it out, and I believe that the Dark Lord is, in fact, destined to die.

"Now, listen very closely. We are going to stage a rescue mission for a very weak and fragile man, and this task will not be easy. Narcissa, I recall you to be an excellent brewer of the Medimorph Potion. I will require you to brew some. As it is, this man has something the Order needs, but I think only I will be able to get it."

"Why only you, sir?" Draco asked.

"Because I think that I am right that the place we will be going to will need a dark wizard to open it. Now, to continue my plan: After we have rescued this man, Narcissa, I will leave you in charge of nursing him while Draco and I go in search of the Order. Are we agreed?" Draco was in instantly, but Narcissa seemed reserved.

"What about the Dark Lord?" she asked, terrified. "I don't want to loose Draco."

"I believe," Snape said, "that once the Order has accepted us, they will be able to shelter us, but until then, we shall have to be certain that we do not stay in one place for too long. Now, let us quickly depart. Our time grows ever thinner." Snape led them outside, and they began to walk towards Snape's apparition point. In an instant, they had left America, and were returning to Britain.

Seconds later, they reappeared in London, in a dodgy end of town. Draco recognized it as being the place where the Order of the Phoenix had been stationed. Snape led them forward to where number twelve was hidden. It materialized for them, and they stepped inside. Snape led them down through the kitchen, and down a dark passageway that showed a door covered with grime and muck. Snape whispered an incantation, and the door opened.

Regulus Black was used to slipping into hallucinations in his state of being only about three quarters alive, so he wasn't altogether surprised when a beam of light rent the amazingly stale air of his basement home. He had never heard voices before, but he certainly heard them now. Utterly bewildered, but seemingly plastered to his bed, Regulus didn't move.

"God it stinks down here." A voice commented. It sounded like a young teenager's voice.

"Quiet, Draco." Another voice, a woman's, chided the first one.

"He should be around here…_Lumos_." Another voice, silky and somewhat familiar also spoke, but as he did so, a narrow beam of light cascaded around the basement. Regulus thought he might just be sick, as the beam of light found him. He had become so accustomed to dark that the light was making his head ache as though it were being cleaved in two. There, looking at him were three people. One was a tall middle aged man with completely black robes beside whom stood a woman with a very chiseled face with a rather sour looking expression, and a young boy with sleek white-blonde hair.

"The potion, please, Narcissa." The tall man addressed the woman, who produced a cauldron full of a potion that was a violent shade of turquoise that shown in bright in the room. The tall man, Snape, stepped up beside Regulus.

"_Evanesco_." He muttered, pointing his wand at Regulus' waste. He then pointed his wand at Regulus. "_Stupefy_." He said softly. Having been knocked out by Snape's charm, Regulus lay calmly on the floor of his basement. Snape searched his robes, and pulled out a bottle of completely clear liquid.

"Veritaserum?" Narcissa, the woman asked quietly. Snape nodded, spiking the Medimorph potion with the truth potion. Snape opened Regulus' mouth and administered the potion. Regulus' reflexes made him swallow it.

"_Ennervate_." Snape whispered. Regulus stirred. It felt like a miracle. His body was no longer feverish, and he no longer felt like he was made of lead. He flexed his muscles a few times, not quite sure of what was happening.

"Are you Regulus Black, a former Death Eater?" Snape questioned. Regulus was quite startled to hear Snape speak, as he had momentarily forgotten anyone was there, but under the influence of the Veritaserum, he hastily answered Snape in a flat, monotonous voice.

"Yes."

"Can you tell me how you came to be here?"

"I was a Death Eater. I had joined up because I thought I'd find acceptance, and that my family would love me more for it. As it turned out, the Death Eaters don't care about acceptance. They merely are drones of the Dark Lord. Well, I hated being one, but I did learn some useful things. I figured out a lot about the Dark Lord. His past, present, and future. I finally worked out his method of becoming immortal, and his Horcruxes. Then I heard a rumor that my elder brother's best friend and his wife had a child who had been marked by the Dark Lord as his equal. I decided, that day to quit being a Death Eater and help Sirius' godson. I found a Horcrux three years ago, and tried to resign. I know that you cannot resign being a Death Eater, but I had a friend, a female Death Eater, perhaps my closest companion, who was willing to die for me. We drank the Polyjuice Potion and she went to the Dark Lord to confess my plan, while I came here to go into hiding. I have been hoping ever since to meet my brother's godson and give him the Horcrux."

"Do you have the Horcrux with you?" Snape asked.

"It's over there." Regulus pointed to a small casket.

"Draco, fetch the Horcrux." Snape ordered, "But be careful." Draco went over to the casket and took out the locket. It was indeed the locket that had once belonged to Slytherin. Snape, Narcissa and Draco all recognized the serpent symbol.

"Put it here," Snape said, extending a shawl. "I shall keep it safe." He turned to Regulus. "Please accompany Narcissa, here. She will take care of you so that you can be well enough to meet your brother's godson…oh, and you'll need these." Snape pulled out of his robes the darkest looking sunglasses Draco had ever set eyes upon. Gently, Narcissa and Snape got Regulus to his feet, and Narcissa led him out of the basement.

"See to it that he gets some good square meals right away." Snape ordered. "Draco and I shall see you in a couple days." The four exited the house into the sunlight. Regulus winced terribly, and Narcissa disapparated with him to where she would stay while she nursed him back to health.

"And now, Draco," Snape said, extending his arm, "we shall go to London so that we may prepare to meet with representatives from the Order." And with a small 'pop', Snape and Draco disapparated.


	5. Chapter 5: The War Begins

FIVE: The War Begins

Harry's lessons with Lupin and Tonks had started, and were going well. Harry had quickly discovered that in the absence of Snape, learning Occlumency was not as hard as it had seemed. Lupin had started by teaching Harry how to remove thoughts from his head as Dumbledore had done back in Harry's fourth year when he was demonstrating his pensieve. Harry was glad of this; for he had thoughts most notably that of him with Ginny by the pond after the wedding, that Harry would rather Lupin had no access to. Harry had also only just mastered Legilimency, though despite anything he might have said to the contrary, Lupin had been very good at blocking most all of Harry's attempts to get inside his head. He had also mastered nonverbal incantations and wandless magic amazingly quickly, much to Lupin's delight.

Harry had even, much to the astonished delight of Tonks, mastered, after nearly four weeks of intense work, Metamorphing, and had been able to transform his appearance at will. He'd made a good show of it one evening when Mrs. Weasley called dinner and Harry had come down looking almost exactly like Ron. He approached Ron with his hand outstretched.

"Hello, Ronald, I'm Donald, your long lost twin. So nice to meet you at long last." Everyone was rolling on the floor laughing, especially when Harry had taken that moment to change back to himself. Fred and George seemed especially pleased.

"Boy you really do us proud, Harry." George had said, clapping him on the back.

"Amazing show." Fred agreed.

"Well, I was taught by the best, wasn't I?" Harry said, grinning at the twins. Those days, though, were some of the busiest Harry had seen. Members of the Order were coming and going constantly, it seemed, and the Burrow was an absolute flurry of activity. Harry himself had been in on a great number of meetings, and no meeting had brought good news. The Death Eaters had been seen in London, beginning a spree of some of the worst killings ever. Moody had brought some news the night before that had everyone wondering if they could hold their dinners in their stomachs.

"I've seen," Moody said, "the Death Eaters building structures sort of like large prison camps being erected. I saw all sorts of torture instruments being created, too, as well as gasses Muggles use to kill each other being made up. It looks like you-know-who means business this time." After the meeting Harry had told Ron, Hermione and Ginny what had happened. Hermione burst into tears. Her parents had just left the Burrow and were clearly heading for danger. Ron tried to console her, but she ran to Ginny's room to write immediately to her parents. Ginny had not shed any tears, but turned to Harry with a look that made Harry's insides tie themselves into a knot. She looked both angry and upset at the same time, and her eyes seemed to crackle with almost palpable electricity.

"I hope you find and destroy those Horcruxes, Harry!" She nearly screamed, "Because I won't sit for much more of this!"

"I don't know who would." Harry said, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder, after which she too dissolved into tears.

"I'm just so, so scared." She said softly. "I don't even like to sleep at night. I fear the next thing I know…" she was unable to complete her sentence, and Harry felt he had a good idea why not. Ginny had been manipulated in her first year by a diary of Tom Riddle, the boy who became Lord Voldemort, and had confided in Harry that the memories of that still haunted her. Harry, his sympathies for Ginny surging, pulled her into his embrace, where she broke out in renewed sobs.

"Promise me you'll never leave me Harry. Promise."

"I promise." Harry said, massaging Ginny's back.

"It's like I said, isn't it?" said Ron, his voice constricted, "it's like that 'Hollow Cause'".

"Holocaust." Harry said softly, more to himself than to Ron, feeling his blood turn to ice at the thought. Ron nodded.

"I'm gonna find Hermione." He said, croakily, "g'night you two." Ron left, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Harry sat back down, terror surging through him. What if what Moody said was true? Harry had learned about the Holocaust when he had been in Primary school, in the days previous to his Hogwarts days. Muggle Germans, led by a Muggle madman, Adolph Hitler, had crusaded against all Muggles who followed the religion of Judaism, and had locked them up in what they had called 'Concentration Camps', where the poor people there were tortured in the most inhuman ways, and often put to death in 'showers' that contained lethal gasses. If not dying by gas, they were sometimes cremated alive, and those who were not gassed or cremated were forced to live in the most unimaginable conditions and do strenuous labor while denied good food and rest. Sometimes, they had to bury the bodies of their predeceased loved ones. And if what Moody had said was accurate, it looked like the Death Eaters were planning something of that nature for the wizarding world.

Noticing that Ginny had fallen into an uneasy sleep, of which Harry could guess by her uneven breathing, Harry took her up to bed. Half-awake, and convulsing with fear, Harry helped her change into her pajamas. He lay her down in bed and made to leave, but Ginny softly started to cry again.

"Please don't leave me, Harry." She whispered. Harry returned to her bedside and held Ginny to his chest. "Will you sing to me, Harry?" Harry wasn't much of a singer, but he looked into Ginny's tired but terrified face and started on a tune by an American Muggle folk musician Dudley listened to occasionally.

_All across Kansas, all across Kansas in the night_

_We'll reach Missouri _

_In the dawn's early light_

_My sister and I in the backseat_

_Don't care how far we gotta go_

_We wanna keep rolling_

_Listening to that late night radio_

Mr. Weasley, coming upstairs to check on Ginny, though mildly shocked at first, joined Harry in singing to Ginny, creating a soothing bass harmony to Harry's tenor

_We can hear her and daddy singing_

_Warm as the dash light glow_

_In the backseat rain for the drumbeat _

_Listening to that late night radio_

Finally, soothed by the voices of the two men she loved most, Ginny fell into a deep sleep, her breathing now even and soft, snoring in a way that Harry was reminded of a violin playing softly. Harry looked down at her face, and gently brushing the tears off her cheeks and kissed them. He turned to Mr. Weasley.

"Do you think Moody's telling the truth?" He whispered. Mr. Weasley contented himself in nodding, tears welling in his own eyes as he looked down at his daughter.

Percy Weasley signed out of work at the Ministry that day at about 7:40, said goodnight to Minister for Magic Rufus Scrimgeour and made his way towards the street. His thoughts were to go to his flat, where he lived with his longtime girlfriend Penelope Clearwater, but he was also desperate to go back to his parents' house.

Ever since Harry Potter had announced that he had seen Lord Voldemort return at the end of the Triwizard Tournament three years ago, Percy had joined forces with the Ministry, landing a job as Junior Assistant to then-Minister Cornelius Fudge, who, not wanting to loose the stability of the Magical world that he had so slaved to achieve, or his cherished office as Minister, and just terrified of it being true, had gone into denial about Voldemort's return. Percy, who had expected his family to be as happy for him in his promotion as he was for himself, had ended up having a row with his father, who believed that Fudge was up to no good, promoting Percy, and estranging himself from the family. He had not been home since, except for a brief occasion the previous Christmas, an event Percy had put all of his energies into forgetting.

Yet, as a Muggle musician, Bob Dylan had pointed out in one of his songs, '_The times, they are a-changing_'. This was true of the wizarding world, too. The times were indeed changing. For starters, there was the new Minister for Magic, who had taken over when the wizarding population at large had learned the truth about Voldemort being back, had banded together, and demanded Fudge's resignation. Now it was clear to all that Voldemort _was _back, and anyone who was still in denial was considered mental.

Fudge and the Ministry had also painted a nasty image of Dumbledore, who stood by Harry saying that Voldemort was back, as being an old man who was loosing his grip on reality, and the Ministry was eager to distance themselves from anyone who still sided with Dumbledore. Percy, knowing the rest of his family were right in Dumbledore's inner circle, was all the more keen to no longer consider himself part of that family. Yet when the truth about Voldemort was out, it was obvious, especially after Dumbledore died, that he had not been loosing his grip on reality.

So Percy felt like the time might just be right for him to apologize to his family, and ask for their forgiveness. Still, he wondered as he set off down the street, if he could be forgiven. He had seen the way his brother Ronald had looked at him at Dumbledore's funeral. He looked positively incensed to see Percy there, and seemed in half a mind to kick Percy's arse. Penelope had always cautioned him about how much he might have hurt his family. Squaring his shoulders, Percy conjured up a Patronus to inform Penelope of where he was headed, and then disapparated to Ottery St. Catchpole.

Arriving about five miles outside of the town, as Percy had decided to give himself some time to plan his words to them as he walked, Percy began to stroll towards the town of his childhood. He walked briskly, trying to keep warm in the decidedly cool night, his wand alight, leading the way. Suddenly, he heard a twig snap, as if a foot had trod on it. This foot, Percy was sure, was not his. He froze. Suddenly, at least ten lit wands were pointed at him. As the wands closed in on him, Percy realized he was looking into the faces of at least fifteen Death Eaters.

"Excellent," one of the Death Eaters said, chortling, "he belongs to Dumbledore's gang. Wormtail did say we were supposed to target those."

"Yes, indeed!" Another Death Eater clapped, "let's bring him to base. I want to make sure I installed everything correctly." A third Death Eater approached Percy, his face inches from Percy's. Percy could smell the strong scent of Firewhisky on his breath.

"Come—hic—with us, boy. We—hic—wanna show you sommat." _Stall_ Percy thought, _I must stall_.

"Why would I want to come with you?" Percy said, trying to sound indifferent. One Death Eater growled and made for his wand, but Percy got there first.

"_Stupefy_!" He roared at the advancing Death Eater. The Death Eater fell to the ground unconscious. Percy had gotten his courage, and his temper back.

"I will not come with you, you slimebags!" He bellowed at his captors. "Besides, I don't have anything you want."

"Oh, yes you do!" One of the Death Eaters roared, laughing. "You belong to Dumbledore's crowd, and you are a guinea pig!! Come with us!!!!"

"**Never!!!! I'll die first!**" The Death Eaters had stopped laughing.

"You'd die first?" the drunken Death Eater said, his tone soft and icy.

"_Stupefy_! _Stupefy_!" Percy repeated the hex over and over again, hitting as many Death Eaters as he could. The Death Eaters, however, decided he'd gone far enough.

"You say you'll die before you join us, well that can be arranged!" A Death Eater screamed. "_AVADA KEDAVRA_!!!!" Percy barely had time to put on a shocked expression before the curse killed him, hitting him square in the chest. As he fell to the ground dead, a new wand had shot multiple stunning spells at once at all the remaining Death Eaters. Mad Eye Moody limped into sight, looking at the stunned Death Eaters. Each one he rapped over the head, forcibly apparating to a special holding cell he and some other Aurors had just finished. Recognizing Percy's body, Mad Eye ran down the hill as fast as he could.

Harry and Mr. Weasley had just come back down to the kitchen to join Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Ron (who had returned after putting Hermione to bed) and Fleur in a nightcap, when someone ran in, not even bothering to knock. Mr. Weasley couldn't understand why Mad Eye Moody looked so panicked.

"Alastor…what is it?" Mr. Weasley said, startled by Moody's new mannerism.

"Oh, Arthur, Molly. I was just making my rounds. Checking for Death Eater activity…I saw…I saw Percy. I…I…Molly, he's dead."

"WHAT?!" Mr. Weasley bellowed. Moody nodded.

"I saw him. Tried to fight off about…blimey I'd say there were at least fifteen or more Death Eaters ganging up on him. I think he was trying to visit you. Anyway, I searched his body…found this on him…I am _so _very sorry, Molly, Arthur." Mr. Weasley took what Moody held in his scarred and disfigured paw. It was a letter. Mrs. Weasley collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably. Ron stared at his father and Moody for a few minutes, his expression one of pure abject terror. A few seconds later, he ran for the bathroom to be sick.

"Well," Mr. Weasley said, his hand over his heart, and tears flowing unchecked down his face, "We're definitely in this war now."


	6. Chapter 6: Percy's Funeral

SIX: Percy's Funeral

Harry had promised Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that he'd tell Ginny about Percy, as both of them felt too drained to face their feelings again. Harry rose unusually early from bed, having slept in Ron's room that night, and had come down for some coffee and to gather his thoughts as to how he could break the news to Ginny. He was surprised to see Ron awake as well. Ron looked pretty bad in Harry's opinion. He was definitely pale and it looked like he hadn't got much sleep.

"Are you all right, mate?" Harry asked concerned.

"Couldn't sleep." Ron mumbled. "Kept thinking of Percy…Hermione…I guess I never thought this would be how I would have envisioned my life going." Harry nodded, not really knowing how to reply. This had definitely been a dark chapter in his life, too. He had always tried to imagine what it would be like when Voldemort was powerful, helped on by the cryptic tales told by people like Mr. Weasley and Sirius, but he could never imagine anything as dark as what was happening to the world now. It was as Ginny had said last night; it was high time he got going on his search for the Horcruxes. The sooner Voldemort was disposed of, the better off they would be. The trouble was, Harry had no idea where to start. He, like Ron had lost sleep last night, but Harry's reason was that he was still trying to figure out who in the world R.A.B. was.

Just then, Ginny entered the room, followed by Hermione. Both girls had seen Ron and Harry's somber faces and knew something had happened. Hermione had come over to Ron and put her arm around his shoulders. Ron burst into tears at the warm touch of Hermione.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked. It was most unlike Ron to break down so easily in most cases. Harry looked at Ginny, and swallowed.

"Um…Ginny, Mad-Eye came last night. He saw…well, he ran into Percy…he was fighting off at least fifteen Death Eaters, and…"

"What happened?" Ginny prompted, a definite edge of panic in her voice. Harry swallowed again.

"Ginny, I…he's d…he's dead. I'm so sorry, love." Ginny went pale. If possible, paler than Ron. She stiffened up, grasping the back of the chair she had been leaning on. Harry wondered if she might be sick like Ron had last night, and he was ready to produce another bucket if need be. Ginny, however, crumpled, sobbing like Ron. Harry ran over to her and hugged her gently as she wept.

After a very subdued breakfast, everyone got into their dress robes and prepared for the funeral. Harry had decided to use his old school dress robes, rather than the ones Lupin had gotten him, but charmed almost everything black, except his shirt, which he charmed the color of Percy's hair, which had always been a shade lighter than the rest of his family's hair.

"Nice touch," Ron said, giving Harry's red shirt a watery smile. "I'm gonna go check on Hermione." Harry nodded, and followed Ron out, deciding to check on Ginny, which had proven to be a good thing, as Ginny had made no effort in getting ready for the funeral. She was not crying anymore, but she looked frighteningly helpless and scared. Harry sat by her, but she ignored him. It was almost like she was in a trance. Like the previous night, Harry helped her change into a beautiful silver dress, around the left sleeve of which he helped her fix a black armband. He gently proceeded to guide her downstairs. The rest of the family was already there. Mr. Weasley was wearing his absolute best suit which looked like it had been starched only just recently. Mrs. Weasley had a dress that was completely black. Ron and Hermione had nearly matching outfits that were on a similar plane to Mr. Weasley's suit.

"Everyone ready to go?" Mr. Weasley croaked, "Bill, Charlie, Fleur, Fred and George will meet us there."

A few minutes later, everyone had arrived, via a Portkey, to a beach where the Weasleys often picnicked at. Percy's coffin had been put on a stand facing the ocean. The turnout was quite alarming. Harry had expected this to be a family affair, but Minister Scrimgeour, several Ministry officials and many members of the Order of the Phoenix including Hagrid had shown up. Harry was pleased to see Hagrid, who he hadn't seen since the end of the year, and though it had not been a very long time, Harry missed him. After a bit of milling around and introductions, the ceremonies began, and everyone had found seats. Ginny had requested to sit beside Mrs. Weasley, and Harry and Hermione felt that the Weasleys deserved a row to themselves, so they ended up sitting beside Hagrid in the row just behind the Weasleys.

Mr. Weasley got up, and stood beside the casket, trying to speak. It was extremely difficult for him to do so, his words constricted by his grief. He fought his crying though tears ran down his face. He often had to make long pauses while he gulped at the air. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were both doubled up in silent crying. Even Fred and George could be seen with wet eyes.

After Mr. Weasley had finished his piece, Minister Scrimgeour got up and said his own few words in a much steadier voice. He praised Percy's work ethic and steadfastness to the Ministry, and had praised him for his devotion to his family, saying that he believed Percy would never have lived the rest of his life estranged from his family, and that he just needed a little time to discover where his heart lay, and that he had seen the light last night, and had died a hero's death, trying to defend himself while he was hopelessly outnumbered.

After Minister Scrimgeour's speech, Bill slowly approached Percy's coffin.

"_In_…_incendio_." He managed. Percy's coffin was engulfed in flames, causing Mrs. Weasley to sob her hardest yet. After the flame subsided, there was a pristine marble urn where the coffin had been. Mrs. Weasley and Penelope Clearwater carried the urn to the edges of the beach, waded in the water a few inches, and cast Percy's ashes into the winds.

"I love you, Perce." Mrs. Weasley sobbed quietly. "I always have. Never forget that."

"Farewell, my love, I won't forget you!" Penelope cried. She and Mrs. Weasley hugged, sobbing onto each other's shoulders. On the shore, others were beginning to break down as well. Fleur was massaging Bill while holding him tenderly in her arms, Hermione was comforting Ron, while Charlie was talking to a friend of his who must have been one of Charlie's co-workers in Romania. Harry wanted to comfort Ginny, but she seemed to need time to herself, and to be with her mother and father, and respecting this, Harry let her be, and milled around in the crowds for the time being. He heard what Charlie was saying to his friend.

"I remember the day he was born, you know. Tiny little bloke. He was about two weeks premature as I recall. I taught him a few things myself. I taught him…I taught him…" he tried to maintain his composure, though Harry thought him to be fighting a loosing battle. "I taught him how to ride a broom." Charlie dissolved into tears, embraced by his friend. Fred and George were chatting miserably to Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, their closest friends, about Percy.

"Just when I thought him to be the world's biggest prat," George said to Alicia, tears welling up, "he shows heart." Alicia held his arm while massaging his back, while Angelina did the same to Fred. Harry continued to wander around.

"Hey Harry," Hagrid had wandered up to him. "What a day, isn' it? The poor Weasleys. I never woulda thought sommat like this'd happen." Harry nodded. "It's painful, loosing family." Hagrid said, wisely. He looked down at Harry.

"Listen, Harry, there's somthin' urgent I gotta tell yeh. There's a meetin' of the Order. My place, tomorrow night. McGonagall and the others think it's high time we got searching for those Horcruxes, an' bring you-know-who down for good." Harry nodded, Hagrid having just told him what he had been thinking. As the Weasleys were as good as Harry's family these days, Harry could not help but dwell on the fact that he had lost another family member to Voldemort.

"Ah, Harry, there you are." Mr. Weasley came up to Harry. He looked quite spent, but of course, Harry reflected, losing loved ones has a way of doing that to you. "We'd better go back, Harry," Mr. Weasley said. "Hermione, Ron and Ginny have already apparated back. Hi, Hagrid," he added, seeing Hagrid. "Thanks for coming, it means so much to us."

"It's my pleasure, Arthur," Hagrid said, patting Mr. Weasley gently on the back, so that his knees buckled slightly.

"Yes, well, thanks again Hagrid. Shall we, Harry?" Mr. Weasley offered his arm, which Harry took, and the two disapparated back to the Burrow. Harry walked into the kitchen to find Ron and Hermione having one of their famous rows.

"…And you really expect me to hang around here while my parents are in mortal danger?!" Hermione was bellowing at Ron.

"Yes I do!" Ron bellowed back. "I don't want you to go back to Muggle London. Not now!"

"Well, that's just too bad, Ronald, because I'm not going to desert my parents now!" Hermione roared, her face purpling. "I have half a mind to leave now!"

"NO!! Hermione, I don't want you to…" Ron stopped, suddenly, the red on his face that had been a sign of his anger was replaced by an embarrassed red. Hermione, however, did not seem to have noticed.

"Well, I'm going!" She spat, "I'm not deserting my family!"

"I'll come with you!" Ron shouted back, hopefully.

"NO! You've got your own family to look out for!"

"You_are_ my family! I love you, Hermione! I don't want you going to London! You'll be in danger there! I don't want you to die, Hermione! I've lost Percy now, but I will** not **loose you…I'm scared!!" Hermione's anger evaporated on the spot. Tears flew from her eyes, and she flung herself at Ron. She hung on to him, sobbing for a few minutes before she spoke.

"I'm scared, too, Ron." She sobbed. "And you are my family, as well and I love you so much…but I have to look out for my parents."

" I want to go with you, Hermione." Ron spoke much softer, but his voice was still stubbornly persistent. "I don't want to think of what would happen if I couldn't be with you in these times. I can't wake up not being able to see your face." He kissed her head passionately. Hermione broke apart from Ron, and walked over to the trunk she had been packing while fighting with Ron and latched it shut.

"I'll write you after a couple days, Ron. I promise." She hefted the trunk up to the fireplace, threw in a pinch of floo powder, stepped in with her trunk, called out her address in commanding tones, and disappeared.

"I love you, Hermione!!" Ron called helplessly as the flames of the fire turned from emerald to orange again. Though he did not cry, Ron crumpled into a heap, absentmindedly playing with some ashes from the fireplace, and looking utterly woebegone. He was watched sadly by Mrs. Weasley and Harry.

"I hope he's going to be all right." Mrs. Weasley said anxiously. "Harry, can you make sure he gets to bed soon? I doubt he'd be doing himself any favors by staying up late."

"I will." Harry said. "Poor guy."

"I never really knew he loved her that much." Mrs. Weasley said.

"I don't think Hermione even knew." Harry said nodding.

"Well, I think I'm going to retire. Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Mrs. Weasley." Harry watched her leave, then walked over to where Ron was still sitting absentmindedly by the fire, looking at the flames as though he were willing Hermione to return.

"Come on, Ron, mate, we got to get you to bed." Harry said, gently. Ron nodded, and allowed Harry to pull him to his feet and steer him into bed.

If Ron had lost sleep over Percy dying, it was nothing compared to now that Hermione had gone. He tossed and turned all night long, not able to keep still. Harry had found it annoying at first, but had not said a thing, wanting to leave Ron at peace, or at least, as close to peace as he could get right now. Nevertheless, after a half hour of Ron tossing and turning so much, Harry felt like he couldn't sleep, so he left the room, and went back down into the kitchen. It was late at night, so Harry was a bit surprised to see Lupin sitting at the table.

"Hey, Harry, can't sleep?" Lupin asked.

"Well, it's actually Ron who can't sleep, but he's been keeping me up, so I suppose that, for the purposes of this discussion, no I can't sleep." Lupin nodded.

"It may be for the best, Harry. Listen, Hagrid told me of the meeting at his house tomorrow, Harry, and I've been thinking that it is time we started uncovering anything and everything that might help us in our search for the Horcruxes, and I think I may have found something."

"What is it?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling much more awake.

"It is a letter," Lupin said, "from Sirius' brother to Sirius. I think you will find it explains a lot." Lupin handed Harry the letter who took it and read:

Dear Sirius,

I doubt you will want to hear from me, as I know that you do not really care about me, and it may be that you will not believe what I have to say, since you, like our parents, have never really considered me someone to listen to.

Nevertheless, I am telling you this, perhaps not for your own sake, but for the sake of the child your best friend's wife is currently carrying. I have heard the rumors about her, and I have heard Severus' account of the part of the prophecy that he heard, and went to tell our master about. I concluded, upon hearing these things that the Dark Lord was planning to make himself immortal through using Horcruxes.

I know for certain that you will not believe me, brother, when I say that I have renounced the old ways, and my position as a Death Eater. Instead, I have spent these last few years searching for the Horcruxes. I am delighted to say that I have succeeded, and I will be leaving shortly to go into hiding. A friend, Mia Tepperbone, has agreed to take a draft of Polyjuice potion and die in my place, confessing my plan to the Dark Lord. I shall go into hiding with the hope that I may join forces with you and help, as I understand it, your godson, bring down the Dark Lord.

Your Brother,

Regulus Andrew

Harry looked up from the letter, startled. He ran his fingers through his hair, and began pacing. He'd finally found out who R.A.B. was. It seemed odd, however, that the brother of his dear godfather was the one who had taken the Horcrux he and Dumbledore had been looking for. Harry looked at Lupin.

"I don't understand, if all this is true, why Sirius never went looking for his brother. If he had found a Horcrux, surely Sirius would have understood the importance of investigating it." Harry said.

"I think you are forgetting," Lupin said, "how much bitterness Sirius felt for his family. I think the fact that Regulus appeared to get along with their parents so well, and the fact that he led a life Sirius was so eager to get away from, that Sirius never took Regulus that seriously."

"I thought he was dead." Harry said.

"He may very well be, Harry." Lupin responded.

"So I guess…in order to find this particular Horcrux, we will have to find Regulus."

"I think that is accurate, Harry. I think, however, that what we really need to focus on now, is sleep. When we meet at Hagrid's tomorrow, we can fully plan about how we will go about all this." Harry nodded. It was half past midnight, and Harry was exhausted. He trumped back up to his room, where thankfully Ron had fallen asleep, although Harry noticed, upon closer inspection, that Ron's eyes were a bit swollen and red around the edges. With a surge of sympathy, Harry realized that Ron had probably cried himself to sleep. Lying down on his own bed, sleep found Harry almost instantly. He rolled on his side and was snoring within seconds.


	7. Chapter 7: Triple Trouble

SEVEN: Triple Trouble

When Ron got up the next morning, Harry was pleased to see that he seemed happier, or at least wasn't brooding on Hermione's absence. He seemed well rested, too, which took Harry by surprise, as Harry doubted that all the coffee in the world could keep him up now. He clocked himself at only getting about four hours of sleep the night before. Breakfast was a bit more cheery than it had been yesterday, though Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were unusually quiet. A popping sound from the fireplace distracted them, and though such noises weren't unusual in a wizarding house, Mr. Weasley nevertheless left muttering about how it was a bit early for people to be calling. Mr. Weasley came back a minute later, looking a bit grave.

"Ron, Hermione's in the fire, and she wants to talk." He said. Ron nodded and jumped out of his seat looking both worried and excited. He dropped down beside the fire and took in the very concerned face of his girlfriend.

"Hey, love." Ron said.

"Ron," Hermione's voice was slightly panicky, "can you get over here right away? The Death Eaters are loose in London and it's getting pretty hot over here."

"I'll be right there." Ron said assuredly, "just hang in there sweetheart, I won't desert you."

"You might if you don't stop babbling," Hermione said with a brave attempt at a smile, though a few tears fell down her face. "Please come." Ron nodded, stood up and as soon as Hermione's head was out of the fireplace, disapparated to Hermione's house. Harry and Ginny both noticed that Mrs. Weasley seemed beside herself with fright. Ginny ran up to her mother, and attempted to soothe her, knowing right away why Mrs. Weasley was so pale.

"I just don't have a clue what to do with all this," Charlie Weasley said, coming up beside Harry, "all these families, all these lives, torn up, as though we are nothing more than a sheet of parchment."

"I'll tell you one thing," Harry said, "I'll be glad to get that meeting at Hagrid's over with. At least we'll be a bit further along." Charlie nodded.

"McGonagall's already asked Bill and I to start digging up help outside of Britain. Bill and Fleur are gonna start recruiting in France, and I'm going to try my luck in Romania." Harry nodded.

Ron apparated into Hermione's living room, making Alasdair Granger jump, spilling his tea all over himself.

"Lord!" Mr. Granger said, breathing hard, "I know I've got a witch for a daughter and that I ought to get used to people appearing out of thin air, but blimey, whatever I do to prepare myself…"

"I'm sorry," Ron said, charming Mr. Granger dry, "but I didn't want to waste any time getting here by any other means, I mean, when Hermione flooed me this morning, she sounded so upset."

"Take a look out the window." Mr. Granger said darkly. It took Ron only a second to see what Mr. Granger was talking about. There may not have been any Death Eater activity at that particular moment, but Ron could easily see what was making Hermione so upset. Obvious destruction was everywhere, and London, a very proud city, now looked ruined. Mr. Granger had the TV on, and the destruction was blamed on a hurricane, but Ron, who had lived all his life in the wizarding world, was not fooled. He immediately recognized the type of destruction that only a curse could herald. It was an awful sight.

Everything, to put it simply, was a mess. Houses were completely reduced to ashes, splinters and other bits of rubble. Muggle cars, everything from your layman's junk car to a film star's limousine were piled unceremoniously on top of one another, looking all the worse for wear. Bodies lay everywhere. It was odd, though, that the Death Eaters seemed to be attacking totally randomly. Ron recalled how his father had once said that the Death Eaters liked to target specific people. Ron looked again at the devastation, and shuddered.

"Ron!!" Hermione had entered the room and seen him. She ran towards him. She was not crying, but looked extremely careworn. "Thank god you're here. I've been so terrified. It's been so awful here."

"I know, darling, I know. Don't worry, I'm here." Ron said soft and low, holding Hermione to him and massaging her in a very calming way.

"I'm going to make some more tea, I think." Mr. Granger said, leaving for the kitchen. Ron continued to cuddle Hermione, whispering words of comfort to her. Somehow, though, Ron had a gut feeling that this was only the beginning.

Draco Malfoy stood in the middle of a half destroyed London feeling terrified. Severus Snape had told him the precise apparition point (when Malfoy refused, point blank, side-along apparition) where the two would search for a way to contact members of the Order of the Phoenix, but somehow he could tell he was completely off course. Snape was nowhere to be seen, and the surroundings were not as Snape had described them. Malfoy would have loved like anything to see himself as a manly man, and be able to keep a cool head as he worked out the puzzle and get himself to the right place, and be reunited with Snape, but despite everything he may have imagined, he was now in an increasingly darkening London with no idea where he was, and nowhere to turn, and true panic was beginning to set in.

"Snape?" He called out softly. In his head, he was beating himself up for acting so childish. Of course Snape wasn't there. He had promised he'd wait, and he was not to be seen. Pulling out his wand, Malfoy set off down the road, twitching slightly.

The meeting of the Order of the Phoenix was almost in full swing by the time Lupin and Harry had arrived, or at least, most of the members of the Order were there, already discussing their thoughts on how to start the Horcrux hunt. The only indicator that the meeting was not called to order yet was the absence of the bewitched quill that Harry had become accustomed to seeing at the meetings of the Order as a method of keeping the minutes of the meeting. Minerva McGonagall looked at the pair, and cleared her throat.

"Well, now that Remus and Harry have arrived, I call this meeting to order at 5:55."

"Seconded." Hagrid said. "A' right, Harry?" Harry nodded.

"Right," McGonagall said, "first, and as far as I know, only order of business, the hunt for you-know-who's Horcruxes. Harry, you are the main brains behind this fight, have you any leads?"

"I do, but this can only take us so far." Harry said, reaching into his robes.

Even in her state of extreme worry and nerves, Hermione had been an excellent researcher, for which Ron was grateful. The pair of them had been looking through all sorts of books to find spells that would help the Grangers' house be safer. The two of them had spent the entire evening planning out what sort of spells to use. They started by casting a temporary shield charm around the house, though Ron and Hermione agreed that that would only be a temporary fix, and were pouring through books that might help them make the house stronger, with the plan to put these charms on the house in the morning.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were doing their part too, as they had been asked by Harry. Mr. Granger had gathered a group of patients of his who were politicians who might be able to get the government into knowing what everyone was up to, while also writing to most of the major magazines and Television stations around town, while Mrs. Granger worked with her charity organizations, medical organizations, and things like that, and prepared leaflets on wartime safety, endorsed by her Women's group. The two of them had done an excellent job in just letting the public know that they were on the brink of a war, though at this point, it wasn't really necessary, as it was obvious that they were in a war, though the fact that the Muggle population could not see their aggressors made unbridled panic a common feeling these days.

Even Hermione was playing a role. She had often been teased in Primary School, before she went to Hogwarts, about her status as a bit of a know-it-all, and a bit queer. Her reputation for doing magical things (though she didn't know it at the time) had earned her a reputation that was, at best, shady, and some of her more religious teachers had wondered if the devil was inhabiting her body, and often recommended to her parents that she see an exorcist. Those days, it was not unusual to see Hermione leave school in tears. Now, however, Hermione, who was one of the few people who appeared to be able to keep her head above water in these violent times was now doted upon, and was often called upon to go and try and explain what was happening and speak words of comfort to schools, church groups and retirement communities.

"Well," Ron said a bite of impatience in his voice, "I think I've read about enough for tonight."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, "I think the Bailynt Shield charm is our best bet."

"Okay," Ron said, "but we ought to reinforce it with the Parasus Power hex, too, so that it stays up for as long as possible." Hermione agreed.

Draco had continued his stroll around London. It surprised him to see just how much destruction the Death Eaters were causing, and he was suddenly wondering what possible appeal being amongst such people as these held for his father. Still incredibly nervous, Malfoy kept his wand out at all times, constantly using various spells to uncover anything that may have been a sign of magic, and therefore, suggest any clue as to where Snape was.

In his nervous agitation, Malfoy's wand was making odd things happening, even though Malfoy was not uttering any particular incantations. He had walked past a couple used Muggle beer cans, which immediately sprang to life, clunking themselves against a nearby tree. An old Muggle boot came apart at the seams as Malfoy passed. Malfoy continued walking in this vein, causing unintentional destruction. Suddenly, Malfoy heard a voice.

"What do think you're doing, boy?" Malfoy jumped, his heart hammering with shock. He turned to see a Muggle policeman, who was looking at Malfoy and his lit wand, a guarded expression on his face.

"_Stupefy_!" Malfoy bellowed, without realizing it. The policeman fell to the ground. Malfoy made to run, but another policeman stepped out of the shadows. He was a fairly tall black man, with an impressively muscular build, and the expression of a man not to be crossed.

"Alright, there, boy, nice and slow, lay down that…thing." The policeman's eyes were on Malfoy's wand, who just now didn't have the courage to disobey. He lay his wand down. The policeman picked it up, looked at it, and pocketed it. He then ordered Malfoy against a phone pole, and proceeded to give him a body cavity search. He then handcuffed Malfoy.

"Son, assaulting a law officer is prohibited by law. I regretfully have to take you in. What's your name?"

"D—Draco Malfoy." Malfoy stammered.

"Unusual name." The policeman commented. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Where are your parents?"

"Uh…" Malfoy was not sure what to say. "My father…he's in Azkaban prison…I don't know where mum is. She has a bit of a job to do."

"What's Azkaban prison?" the Policeman asked suspiciously. Malfoy, however, didn't think it right to answer, and in any case, he was beginning to get absolutely terrified. "I guess I'm not gonna get a straight answer out of you boy." The policeman muttered. "I have got to take you in. Get in the car, please." Malfoy did not hesitate, but jumped into the car, shaking from terror. The policeman radioed his headquarters to say that he had picked up a bit of a nutcase and was taking him to St. David's hospital.

Mary Hopkins, a nurse at St. David's hospital for the mentally unfit, was enjoying the evening with her boyfriend, Jit, another nurse. She and Jit had tried to keep their relationship professional and purely platonic, and tried to hide the romance from their co-workers, though at this they failed miserably. The two sat together on an unused gurney in the hall beside the reception area.

"Some coffee for you love." Jit said, sitting beside Mary.

"Thanks, Jit, I needed that." Mary said. Jit responded by gently nibbling her ear. She giggled. "Not now, Jit, not now!" She said, very flirtatiously. Just then, the flashing lights of a police car brought them back to their professional selves. A policeman led a terrified looking young man into the reception area.

"Good evening," the policeman said. "I found this young man wandering the streets. He was muttering and making things happen…beat down my partner…he's dangerous, this one." Mary nodded.

"Thank you, Constable; we can take him from here." She turned to look at Malfoy. "Come here, dear. We need to lie you down."

"NO!" Malfoy said, panic in every syllable, "I need to get out of here now! The Death Eaters, they're after me! I can't stop now, I gotta go!"

"We understand," Jit said, trying to calm the young man down, "but we need to examine you. Make sure everything is intact."

"It is! Now will you please let me go! I need to find Snape! Let me GO!!" A struggle ensued. Nobody wanted Malfoy to leave, and he got more and more hostile with each attempt to restrain him. "Get your filthy Muggle hands off me!" Malfoy roared as the policeman made to grab him. The policeman staggered back, looking offended and a bit scared.

"What did you just call me?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"I called you a Muggle!" Malfoy growled, "Because you are one! You are not a wizard!"

"What do you mean, boy?" The policeman asked, now sounding amused. "Are _you_ a wizard, boy? Oh don't tell me," he pulled Malfoy's wand out of his pocket, "this is your magic wand?" Malfoy could not answer, as he was fighting Jit, who had his arms around Malfoy's neck, and was slowly cutting off his air supply.

"Mary, we need to bind him up." Jit said calmly, though he was breathing hard against Malfoy's continuing struggling. Malfoy continued fighting in this vein for several minutes. Finally, one of the doctors who had joined the fray injected Malfoy with something. He continued to struggle, but he was quickly becoming sedated, and soon fell unconscious in Jit's arms.

He awoke after a few minutes, though it seemed to be an eternity. Malfoy heard the policeman who brought him in discussing Malfoy to the doctor, Jit and Mary.

"He's a funny one, you know? I found him, walking the streets alone, with this…" he was toying with Malfoy's wand "…and if he walked by any rubbish on the roadside, they'd do extraordinary things. Bennett, my partner, swears he saw the boy make two cans jump up and hit a tree. He kept mentioning Snape, whoever or whatever that is."

"Thank you very much, Constable, but I think we can handle it from here." The doctor said. He approached Malfoy's bed.

"I'm Doctor Higgins. Can you tell me who you are, son?"

"My name's Draco Malfoy." Malfoy found his words to be mildly slurred, due to the effects of the drug they had him under.

"Where do you live? We heard you talking about Snape, is that where you live?"

"What?"

"Do you live in the town of Snape?"

"No, I live in Wiltshire."

"We checked the registry. There is no record of anybody named Malfoy in any area around here, including Wiltshire." The doctor said calmly. "Can you tell me who and where your parents are? So we might contact them?"

"I don't know." Malfoy answered truthfully. "My mother's on a secret mission for…someone and my father's…" Malfoy deliberated. He doubted it would be wise of him to tell the Doctor that his father was in Azkaban. In fact, he doubted he should have told the policeman. "…unavailable." The Doctor looked down at his notepad, thinking hard.

"Well," he said, I think I need to call it good for the night, while I think of who we can contact about you, so I think it best if you stay here for another few days."

"No!" Malfoy said, his panic returning, though the drugs were still preventing him from using his mouth properly. "I need my wand! I need to get out of here! The Dark Lord and his followers are out looking for me! I need to get out of here!"

"The Dark Lord?" Jit had been standing on Malfoy's other side while the Doctor was questioning Malfoy, looking relatively uninterested in the interrogation, but his hands had now tightly gripped the side of Malfoy's bed. "He…him…back?" Malfoy was rendered, though not difficult in his drugged state, speechless. Jit had looked at him with eyes full of fear and concern. Somehow Jit had understood, though his companions were reacting as though Malfoy was speaking Chinese.

"Guys," Jit turned to Mary and the Doctor, "can you give us a few minutes alone?" Neither Mary nor the Doctor seemed keen on the idea, but hesitantly agreed.

"How…" Malfoy's brain was spinning. "…How do you…know about…_him_?"

"My cousin's daughters, Padma and Parvati Patil. I reckon you know of them." Jit said, trying, and failing, to sound calm. He looked at Malfoy. "Listen, I understand that it is crucial we get you out. Tonight, if possible, but as my mother is a Muggle and my father's a squib, and I've never so much as held a wand, I cannot help you unless you can specifically tell me who you might be able to contact."

"Well," Malfoy said slowly, hating himself for what he had to say, "there is one girl who goes to Hogwarts with me…her name is Hermione Granger…and she lives here in London."

"I'll look into it right away." Jit promised, and strode out of the room.

Ron and Hermione had been outside, checking their handiwork, making sure that their temporary shield charm was still strong. Ron had stayed outside, while Hermione had gone back inside to watch TV with her father. More to survey the damage inflicted by the Death Eaters than actually work on the charm was Ron's reason for lingering outside.

The damage was worse from the outside than from inside. The houses that had been so destroyed defied description, as they almost had a hollow look about them, as though any form of light had been sucked out of them, leaving them like shells. The roads were littered with broken glass, bodies, and car parts, and the odor of rotting flesh was becoming prominent. The mist that signified the Dementors breeding was thick, and Ron's skin was becoming damp. Destruction. Death. It was everywhere.

Ron continued to survey the damage, feeling a lump of pure anger towards the Death Eaters. How could they be human? How could any person be so full of hate that they could cause this sort of suffering without blinking an eye? Sadness matched Ron's anger as he realized that all sorts of innumerable families were being torn apart. It seemed that, like before, the main goal of Voldemort's reign was to try and wipe out all Muggles, Muggle-borns and Squibs from the Wizarding race, but now it seemed like the Death Eaters were trying to make anyone and everyone miserable that they could. Ron realized that he was incredibly lucky to have Hermione, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, his parents, his brothers (even Percy), Ginny and Harry with him, whom he loved, and who loved him. A definite lump rising in his throat, he turned and walked back into the house, only vaguely aware that there were people behind him.

Ron had just settled down on the couch beside Hermione, to join her and her father in watching the TV. He snuggled Hermione, but the TV had him totally captivated.

"Weird!" He muttered a few times over, "How do they do that? Those people moving around inside this box! Weird!" Hermione turned to smile at him, and gave a yell.

There had been a brilliant flash of white light across the house. Mr. Granger, Ron and Hermione turned to the door, and were frozen with horror. The whole front of the house had been obliterated, and more than thirty Death Eaters stood near where the door had been.

"Who are you?" Mr. Granger said, making a brave attempt at approaching the prominent Death Eater, though it was plain that he was terrified.

"Excellent." The prominent Death Eater chuckled. "More inmates, I see. Muggles! And parents of a Mudblood witch to boot!"

"Come with us, Muggle, we'll show you where you truly belong!" Another Death Eater jeered.

"Yeah, and bring your filthy Mudblood daughter, too!" A third said menacingly. "She's just as bad as you, really." Ron looked at the Death Eaters in fury, and back at Hermione, convulsing with fear, tears freely streaming down her cheeks.

"Don't you **ever **call my little girl filthy!!" Mrs. Granger screamed, throwing herself, and her fists, at the prominent Death Eater, who lashed out with his foot, kicking her hard in the chest. Completely winded, Mrs. Granger was thrown back against the wall, clutching her chest. She was wincing in a way that Ron suspected she may have broken a couple of ribs. Ron ran at the Death Eaters as well, his wand raised. The prominent Death Eater kicked again, and Ron too fell, winded. Mr. Granger seemed to loose his nerve. As if the Death Eaters were not present, he knelt down beside his wife.

"Are you okay, love?" He asked Mrs. Granger.

"Alright, there, enough small talk." The prominent Death Eater growled, moving in on Mr. and Mrs. Granger. "We must be, ah, moving along."

"Fine." Mr. Granger snapped. "Kill us, or whatever, just don't lay one slimy finger on our Hermione."

"Oh, we weren't going to kill you…at least not yet…even better…watch this!" A fifth Death Eater advanced upon Mr. and Mrs. Granger, waved his wand, and another blinding flash of white light permeated the room, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger disappeared. Ron had recovered just enough energy to run over and catch Hermione as she fainted.

Jit had returned to Draco Malfoy's room with a phone book.

"Do you know this Hermione Granger's parents' names?" Jit asked Malfoy. "There are plenty of Grangers in this town, and I want to make sure we contact the right one. To call all the Grangers listed here," he waved the phone book at Malfoy, "would take all night." Draco shook his head. All he knew about Hermione was that she lived in London. Even he admitted that it was not his place to go searching for her private information. Jit looked disappointed.

"Look," he said, "I know you understand how important it is you get out of here, but if you can't even help me find your friend…" Jit started.

"There is one other way, though." Malfoy said, trying his hardest to speak coherently. "If you give me my wand, I can send her a Patronus." Jit, not knowing what a Patronus was, hesitated for a moment, but then left the room, returning a few moments later with Malfoy's wand. Malfoy held the wand for a long time. Racking his brain for an almost nonexistent happy memory. He finally realized that all he was feeling was panic. He just didn't seem to be able to think of anything happy at all, but he gave it a try anyway.

"_Expecto_ _Patronum_." His silver Patronus came out of the wand end, and looked at Malfoy. Jit watched the Patronus somewhat apprehensively. "Go," Malfoy instructed the Patronus, "and find Hermione Granger, and tell her…tell her…I'm in a Muggle insane Asylum and I need help." The Patronus remained still for a moment, and then took off.

Ron had held the Unconscious Hermione for some time, not knowing any remedies to awaken her. It was his mother that was good with these sorts of things, not him. He also wondered if he ought to wake her. This was, after all, her way of responding to the horrible incident that had happened moments ago. Though he was still conscious, Ron was just as terrified, realizing that for the first time in his life he had witnessed _Apparendi Serpentine_, a type of wand-based Apparition that, according to his father, had been devised by Voldemort himself as a means of being a second cousin to the Cruciatus Curse, where anyone apparated by such means was going towards torture, and could only be properly cast by someone who enjoyed torture. This meant, Ron figured, his heart hammering fit to burst with horror that Mr. and Mrs. Granger were probably, even now, arriving at one of the camps Mad-Eye Moody was talking about. A few tears made their way down his cheeks, and made contact with Hermione's exposed cheek, causing her to come round.

"Mum! Dad! Where are they? Mum!! Dad!!" Hermione hollered, standing up and looking wildly around.

"Hermione…" Ron said softly. She rounded on him.

"Ron! What's going on? Where are mum and dad?!" Her voice was becoming progressively squeakier and hysterical.

"I…I think they've been taken…to a…camp." Ron managed to say, Hermione's eyes mirroring his terror as they became wider than dinner plates. She didn't burst into tears, though she looked ready to, but merely backed away from Ron as though he were carrying something contagious.

"Ron, I…is that a Patronus?" Hermione stuttered, looking at Malfoy's silver Patronus, which had just entered the room.

"Blimey, so it is!" Ron affirmed. "Who sent us a Patronus?" By way of answer, the Patronus stood in front of Hermione and delivered Malfoy's message in a slow voice.

"A message from Draco Malfoy to Hermione Granger. I am at St. David's hospital, an insane asylum south southeast of here. I need your help right away." The Patronus disappeared. Hermione's brow was furrowed, thinking hard. Finally, she spoke.

"I suppose I had better go, Ron." She said after a few minutes.

"Go?" Ron's voice, which had been soft, concerned and fearful when he had spoken earlier, was now hard, angry and suspicious. "Hermione, Malfoy is in a family who're right in you-know-who's inner circle! He nearly killed Dumbledore! You think he's trustworthy, do you? I bet you all the Galleons I own that it's a trap."

"I don't think so, Ron." Hermione said softly. It was Ron's turn to step back a few paces.

"Hermione, think about this. I'm sorry, but this is Malfoy we're talking about!"

"I know, Ron, but I remember something I read about Patronuses back when Harry was teaching us about them two years ago, when the DA was active. You can only cast a Patronus if you are thinking of a very happy memory, or are in dire need of help. If Malfoy is in a Muggle asylum, I bet that, slimy as he is, he'd be in the latter position, and…I'm curious."

"Hermione, Malfoy's goons have just captured your parents!" Ron said, though he had not meant to, but it had just come out, as he tried to search for a reason to discourage Hermione from going to Malfoy's aid. "He deserves to rot in that asylum." Hermione looked at her feet.

"What he deserves," she said, her voice small, "is to live every day feeling our wrath. I don't intend to let him off easily. If you want to join me, Ron, I won't object, but I really think we ought to go." Ron didn't know what to say. He was intensely suspicious of Malfoy's objectives, but his primary reason for wanting to discourage Hermione was that his fear of her getting hurt was again kicking in, so he decided to go along with Hermione. Though he had no intention of admitting it to her, he too was curious, so he nodded at her, and took hold of her arm, knowing that he didn't know where St. David's was, and therefore could not apparate there himself. The two disapparated a few seconds later.

Hermione and Ron reappeared just outside the main entrance to the asylum. They were both surprised to see that the front doors were unguarded and unlocked, and a nurse of Indian descent seemed to be waiting for them.

"Are you Miss Granger, whom a certain Draco Malfoy, a, ah, patient of mine claims to know?" The Indian man asked nervously. "I'm Jit, his, ah, nurse, and he has been talking about the Dark Lord. He's in a right state, and we need to get him out. He knows my cousin's daughters, the Patil twins, and we agree that he may be in serious danger. It was good of you to come." He led them up a flight of stairs where there were grim wards on either side of the hall. He stopped at number 455.

"This is Mr. Malfoy's room. I advise you hurry up. I'll make a diversion to give you time." Jit scurried off. Hermione and Ron squared their shoulders and entered.

Malfoy saw them enter. He was shocked to see Ron there, but at the same time, though he again hated himself for thinking it, he was relieved to see them striding towards him, looking worried and more than a bit disliking of him.

"I…er…thanks for coming, Granger." Malfoy said awkwardly. She merely glared at him as she began unfastening his bindings.

"You deserve to be here, Malfoy, you know that, don't you?" Hermione spat. "I only came because, well, I know Dumbledore always trusted you, but I think there are better ways to deal with you than let you rot here." Ron merely glared at Malfoy. Hermione finished with his bindings.

"I hate to say this…"Malfoy said uneasily, "but I really am grateful…to both of you. I need to contact Snape…do you…" Hermione said nothing, but conjured up her own Patronus.

"Find Severus Snape," Hermione instructed her Otter Patronus, "and tell him we've found Draco Malfoy, and meet us at Hagrid's hut." The Otter, like Malfoy's Patronus, remained still for a few minutes, and then disappeared.

"So we're going to Hagrid's hut to…?" Malfoy said questioningly, looking at Hermione.

"To meet up with the Order of the Phoenix. I daresay they can help determine the appropriate action for you." Hermione answered. "I for one, can't think of a punishment good enough for what you've done," she added. "Your goons took my parents away to one of their camps. Did you know that?"

"No I didn't." Malfoy said. Hermione missed the sincerity in his voice.

"I'm sorry." Malfoy said, his sincerity growing, and catching Hermione off guard. "I've reformed," Malfoy continued, "I've reformed, Granger…er…Hermione. I doubt you or Weasley…er…Ron will believe me, but I have, so if you want to take me to the Order, I won't complain."

"Good," Ron said, speaking at last and aggressively. "Cause that's where we're headed." Malfoy nodded, and the three of them disapparated to Hagrid's hut.

"…Yet again, I must tell you that will not work!" Arthur Weasley roared. The meeting of the Order of the Phoenix had been going on at least four hours, but after Harry had read Regulus Black's letter, pandemonium had ensued. Not a single member of the Order had been able to come up with a solution, or even an idea, for that matter, as how to proceed, and the last four hours had been a fiery debate and political showdown. It was that minute that Ron, Hermione and Malfoy arrived. Most unfortunately, Ron had apparated so close to Harry that his foot landed on top of Harry's.

"I agree with Arthur. There is no way that plan could…ARGH!" Harry backed away, his shock evident. "Hermione! Ron! Why…why…" he caught sight of Malfoy. As he looked into Malfoy's cold grey eyes, he seemed to loose his ability to speak, but he looked at Malfoy with the utmost loathing. It was Hagrid who voiced how Harry felt.

"What do yeh think yer doin' here, yeh murderous traitor?!" Hagrid roared, causing the whole cabin to shake.

"We brought him here," Ron explained, "because we found him captive in a Muggle insane asylum, and decided we ought to let the Order decide what to do with him."

"I reckon we should feed him ter the Thestrals!" Hagrid growled, advancing on Malfoy with his pink umbrella in his hand.

"Hagrid, no!" McGonagall said. "We can allow him to set up camp somewhere, but we need to let him have the benefit of our doubt for now." Mr. Weasley sighed.

"It's late, everyone, very late. We should end this meeting sooner than later. I…Hermione, what's wrong?" Mr. Weasley's eyes had rested upon Hermione who had been standing beside Ron, not having spoken an utter word, but looking totally spent and defeated, making Mr. Weasley feel as he had after Percy's funeral.

"It's…" Hermione began, but she couldn't finish. She worked her mouth a couple of times, closed it, and as Ron embraced her, she let a few tears out, but did not cry.

"Her parents got taken to a camp." Ron said sadly, stroking Hermione's hair and kissing her.

A knock on Hagrid's door rent the suddenly still air of the meeting. McGonagall answered the door, and stepped back in shock. If Hagrid had been angry at Malfoy's appearance with Ron and Hermione, it was nothing compared to what he was looking now at the man who stood framed in the doorway. Even McGonagall's eyes had narrowed with dislike at the man, Severus Snape, a former colleague and murderer of Albus Dumbledore. Snape seemed his usual self, indifferent to his cold welcome. His eyes swept the room. As they fell upon Malfoy, his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in concern and without waiting for anyone to welcome him in, he crossed over the threshold, and made straight for Malfoy, grabbing him up in a hug. Not a simple "I was worried" type hug, quick and without particular feeling, but a fairly prolonged, tender, passionate and almost fatherly hug. Harry's jaw dropped.

"Thank goodness." Snape whispered, "I was really worried." Malfoy seemed unable to answer. Finally, he and Snape broke apart.

"Have you got it?" Malfoy finally asked. Snape nodded, and the two of them turned to face Harry and the Order.

"We owe you…an explanation." Snape said. "It has come to my attention that you are beginning to look for the Dark Lord's Horcruxes, and that you have been pondering how to go about finding Slytherin's locket. I will not tell everything, but I knew of a certain man, Regulus Andrew Black, who had deserted his post to help his brother's godson. Knowing how unlikely it would be that anyone but a dark wizard could find where he was hiding, I found him myself, along with the Horcrux." Snape withdrew the shawl in which the horcrux was hidden. He unwrapped it, and Harry saw it immediately. He recognized the symbol upon it. He looked at the locket and then at Snape at a complete loss as to what to say. "Oh," Snape said, "there are two other things I wish to give you." He extracted two small corked bottles filled with what were unmistakably memories for a pensieve. "This one," he indicated the slightly larger bottle, "the whole order ought to view together. This one is specifically for you, Harry. Consider, please, what I have just given you before you pronounce a sentence for Draco and me, and also understand that I have never deserted my post as a faithful double agent for you, even if the thought has crossed my mind. The memory ought to help you see." He turned to Malfoy. "Come Malfoy, we need not stay any longer." With that, Malfoy and Snape exited almost as quickly as they had arrived, Harry watched them go.

The meeting had been called to an end at 11:58, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Mr. Weasley had headed back to the Burrow. When Ron had told the story of Hermione's parents, Mr. Weasley began to worry.

"Molly! Ginny!" He had said. "I left them at home! I hope they're all right. I'll never…" he lapsed into a constant, incoherent, worried mumble until they got home. Harry's insides felt like lead, too but he didn't say anything. As it turned out, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had been fine, and had waited to hear about the meeting. Ginny had looked absolutely horrified when Harry had recounted Snape's appearance. However, when Hermione and Ron insisted that they needed to go to bed, Ginny followed them, gingerly hugging and kissing Harry goodnight. Harry, however, stayed put.

How could it be? Snape and Malfoy had been the primary forces, after Voldemort himself, who had made Harry's life miserable, and then, in one night, Snape had given Harry two memories and one Horcrux. Harry didn't want to, nor did he think he could, forgive Snape and Malfoy, and yet, they had been the ones to present him with the thing he and the rest of the Order had spent three hours arguing about. Mr. Weasley sat down beside Harry.

"I don't know what to make of this." Harry said to Mr. Weasley.

"Me either, Harry. I would have never expected such behavior from Severus, but if that is the actual Horcrux, and I'm going to have Kingsley look at it tomorrow, he's just done us a great favor, and I hope in time we can let bygones be bygones and forgive him." Harry nodded. He felt the same way, except that he wondered if there could ever be a 'bygones will be bygones' day for him when it came to Malfoy and Snape. Finally, after one of the few remaining embers of the fire was out, Harry realized how tired he was.

"I'm gonna go to bed," He announced, "good night, Mr. Weasley."

"Good night, Harry." Mr. Weasley responded. "Oh, and by the way," he added mischievously as Harry began to climb the stairs, "Ginny's been asking when you'll sleep with her again, and I think in light of what happened tonight, you can give her the honor." Harry grinned, and instead of climbing to Ron's topmost room, he stopped in Ginny's room. Ginny was already fast asleep, looking so beautiful as she slept comfortably. Harry kissed her cheek lovingly and brushed her hair gently out of her face. He was so tired that the moment he lay down beside her, though he had not taken his clothes off, or gotten under the covers, he fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8: The Camps

EIGHT: The Camps

Alasdair and Sarah Granger had recovered from their apparition, and were standing in a field surrounded by dozens of their friends and neighbors and many other people who, judging by their looks of absolute fear, were Muggles, just like they were. Alasdair didn't understand how just a few seconds ago, he had been feeling just fine, albeit scared and depressed by all the destruction he'd been witnessing, but he now felt pain in almost every part of his body. His wife, he noticed, was pale and sweaty, because of her broken ribs on top of everything else, and the cocktail dress she had worn for the dinner they were going to have with Hermione's boyfriend was ripped in specific places, causing Mrs. Granger's more intimate parts of her body to be a little more noticeable. Mr. Granger and the men were hardly better off. Mr. Granger shuddered in the combination of the cold and his nerves. Suddenly, there was a collective gasp from the millions of people gathered in the field.

An arch had appeared out of nowhere. It was a very stately arch, built of marble, but did not have the appeal that marble usually has. It was impressive in size, but the whole thing was creepy. The color of the marble, combined with its height, was making everyone's spines tingle collectively. Emblazed in bright green across the top was the name,

ATROX DOMUS

Below which was inscribed a motto:

"Ut nostrum prosum operor otium, ut nostrum improbus operor ingratus."

("To our good worker peace, to our bad worker hell")

Mrs. Granger, thoroughly educated from her own school days in Latin and Greek, shuddered at the signs. Mr. Granger held her closer.

"What happened to the good old days, eh?" it was Nicholas Creek, and his wife Mariah. Nick and Mariah Creek had been the Grangers' best friends and neighbors. Their daughter Emma had been best friends with Hermione, and had been the only one who had not partook in teasing Hermione about her then-unknown magical abilities, and had stood up to Mark, her brother, whenever he tried to get away with it.

"Nick! Mariah! What're you all doing here?" Mr. Granger asked, shocked but happy to see his best friend. For some reason, Nick became very dark at Mr. Granger's greeting.

"What do you think, Alasdair? We've been captured. As have you by the looks of it." He responded coldly.

"How's Emma doing?" Mrs. Granger asked, timidly, taken aback by Nick Creek's sudden change. At this question, however, Nick's face went even darker and Mariah gave a dry sob.

"Something's happened to her. I don't know what it was, I couldn't see it; none of us could. Emma was out playing with a friend of hers from Secondary school, and all I know was that when she came in, she couldn't remember anything. Barely remembered how to walk. She couldn't talk, didn't know where she was, who she…" he cut off, attempting, and failing, to stifle the sob that escaped him. "I don't know what's happening, Alasdair, but I really want the old days to come back. It broke Emma's heart, you know, when Hermione ran off to that…that…wherever it is you send her these days for her education. Now Emma doesn't have any friends, and is locked in St. David's hospital." Mr. Granger let his head fall sadly against his shoulders. It sounded like a Dementor attack on Emma Creek. Hermione had, naturally, told both him and Mrs. Granger about them, but knowing about them had been little help, since Muggles could not see Dementors, and therefore, couldn't fight them. Suddenly, a figure clad in a black robe with a black hood approached them all.

"Good morning, Muggles! Welcome to Atrox Domus. This camp shall be your home for as long as we find it necessary. My name is Nigel Rathbone, and I am the liaison between you and…your captors. The rules of this camp are simple: Work well, and you will be treated well. Work badly, and you will die. Slowly, and painfully. That we can assure you. When you enter, you will pass through administration. You will be required to surrender all your clothes and valuables at the door, and then proceed to the cleansing showers. Now hurry up!" As he said his last words, he became much more forceful and commanding, and the groups of people huddled by the arch when it had appeared were now beginning to move.

"Men to the left, women to the right!" Nigel Rathbone called. It was a tearful parting of the ways. Sarah Granger clung as hard as she could to Alasdair Granger, tears streaming down her face. The parting for Nick and Mariah Creek was hardly less emotional. Just then, as two burly men came to assist Nigel Rathbone in parting the women from their men, Mr. Granger got a quick look at Nigel's face.

"Nigel! It's me! Alasdair! Don't you remember me? I'm your dentist! I helped put braces on your son!" Nigel suddenly became very dark.

"I've never seen you before." Nigel said coldly.

"Nigel, how can you be like this?" Mr. Granger said, panic rising like bile in his throat. "This is not you, Nigel! It's…it's these Death Eaters! This is not right, Nigel! What happened to the Nigel Rathbone I used to know?" tears stung Mr. Granger's eyes as he, recognizing defeat, followed Nick Creek into the cleansing showers. Mr. Granger had overheard Hermione's boyfriend's father and that extremely scarred man who had been at Ron's brother's wedding comparing the war they were coming into to the Holocaust, and Mr. Granger could now see the terrifying similarities, not the least being that the Death Eaters were conditioning the Muggles to hate other Muggles, like the Nazis had conditioned Jews to hate other Jews. Mr. Granger and Nick began taking off all their clothes and valuables and piling them up. They then stepped into the showers. For a brief moment, the lights in the shower area flickered, and people panicked, thinking that these might be Nazi-like gas showers. Thankfully, a cold stream of water came a moment later. It was freezing, but at least everyone was alive. They got out of the showers a moment later, put on baggy prison clothes, which were sewed very inexpertly and made out of very itchy material. The doors then opened, and Mr. Granger got the first look at where they were going to be living.

It was the most depressing place Mr. Granger had ever set eyes upon. The whole area was surrounded by a shield similar to the one Hermione and Ron had cast around the Grangers' household, except that it looked much stronger, and sentries stood on platforms that held the prisoners in with small dragons on leashes, and occasionally a creature Hermione had said was called a "blast-ended Skrewt", which as she had said, looked lethal. There were eight warehouses that ran the camp lengthwise, which Mr. Granger guessed were the living quarters. At the far end of the enclosure there were tall black chimneys belching immensely black smoke. Mr. Granger shuddered as he imagined what went on in there. Beside the smoking buildings were two other buildings that did not contain smokestacks but looked at least as lethal, and just behind those were various paddocks, torture areas and what looked like the entrance to a mine. Soon, however, the line was again moving, and Mr. Granger was thrown against a wizard, or so Mr. Granger assumed because he had a wand.

"Stick out your left arm." The wizard commanded. Mr. Granger did so, and the wizard rapped his arm with the wand. "There." The wizard said in a satisfied voice, "Your new name." Mr. Granger looked down and saw a jet black tattoo on the arm he had offered to the wizard. It read:

**ZXM555-9M12**

"That," the wizard said, "is your identification number. This one," he pointed to the number 9M12, "indicates what building you live in, and what bunk number you have. Now get moving. We do not tolerate stragglers here." Mr. Granger did as he was told, and did not look back until he was in shed number nine and lay down on bunk number 12. He wished he could be with his wife, but was at least thankful that Nick Creek got the bunk beside him. Then, without warning, a shorter man, dressed in the black garb of the guards burst in.

"Now we get our long winded official welcome." Nick muttered. Mr. Granger tried to grin, but from the moment he stepped into the camp, such an action seemed impossible.

"Welcome to your new home away from home," the man began, "I am Eli Schwartz. I am a Muggle like the rest of you, and I want to make sure that you understand every rule here, because believe it or not, we don't want your stay with us to be a miserable one…"

"No, I don't believe that." Mr. Granger muttered under his breath, "not if half of what Hermione said about those Death Eater people is true."

"…so as long as you pay attention, we shouldn't have problems." The short man said. "So, as I've said, I am Eli Schwartz, and I'm the head of this barrack, so naturally, you all report to me. Roll call begins at six in the morning and work begins at six thirty. As I'm sure you've already heard, lateness is not tolerated, nor is slacking on your work. We expect the very best of all of you, so be warned. The chambers wait for those of you who fail to meet those standards. Good night." Mr. Granger rolled over, and after a few moments, fell into a very uneasy sleep.

No Rooster crowed at Atrox Domus. Instead, Eli Schwartz came in, banging his beating stick against the various beds, hollering at everyone to get up. It was fortune, perhaps, that Mr. Granger, as a dentist, had always had to rise early, and so when Schwartz had seen Mr. Granger up, he did not whack his bed. If Mr. Granger had thought of this as a move of friendship, he was sorely mistaken. Schwartz was not nearly as nice towards Nick Creek, who was not nearly as adept at getting up early.

"Get up, you bag of slog!" Schwartz yelled at Nick, whacking his beating stick over Nick's head. "Up, up, up!" _Whack! Whack! Whack!_ It was almost like a rhythm. Finally, all of barrack 9M was up.

"Breakfast, mess hall. Hurry up!" Schwartz spoke in clipped, commanding tones, and the inmates shuffled out, following Schwartz to the mess hall. Breakfast was a sorry sprig of parsley and a quarter bowl of very watery soup. Soon, Schwartz and the other heads of the various barracks were walking amongst their charges, tapping them on the heads and calling out what they would be working on. Mr. Granger's stomach did a weak backflip as he saw Sarah Granger sitting a few tables away; her eyes were quite puffy and red. Her head tapped her and called out that she would be working with the diggers. Schwartz was walking up the table, also calling out the day's jobs.

"Mines." Schwartz grunted, tapping Nick's head. He approached Mr. Granger.

"Mines." Mr. Granger got up and followed Nick and the others from his barracks towards the mine.

The mines were unimaginable. Miles long, the Muggles who labored there had to endure unendurable heat and were not wearing anything protective and did not observe the safety rules that any Muggle mining company would. A Death Eater met them at the entrance to the twelve mile long, fifteen mile deep mine, and roughly thrust a pickaxe and a tiny lunch pail in the hands of each miner in turn, and told them that they were looking for a white crystal that was used to make Gobstones for little wizarding children, as well as a very specific type of oil that filled the Gobstones to spray onto the looser when they lost.

Nick and Mr. Granger took their pickaxes and lunches without complaint, rightfully figuring that complaining would probably get them killed, or at the very least hurt. Both men had already observed people who even did so little as to slow down for even a second got a nasty blow by the Death Eater and Muggle supervisors alike. The stone they were searching for must have been rare, for Mr. Granger and Nick had been mining for at least a half an hour, but weren't finding anything. Mr. Granger's clothing was sticking to his back from sweat, and working so hard on so little food was making his thinking cloudy and giving him a splitting headache.

Up on the surface, Sarah Granger was not much better off. Not only was she suffering, like her husband in the mines, from heat exhaustion, but she was digging a grave near the crematories, she also had to deal with the putrid smell of burning flesh, and the anguished cries of the people forced to be burnt alive. It was all Mrs. Granger could do to keep from crying out, fainting, or being sick. It was all she could do to keep herself from imagining her little Hermione in one of those chambers. Mrs. Granger hated being this far from her only child, but was thankful at the same time that Hermione could be under the care of her boyfriend and not be here in this hellhole. At various points during the day, both on the surface and down in the mine, the guards kept calling out various identification numbers, and those folks were sent to meet with a doctor who decided what to do with them.

"AXF346!" Madam Gyro, the manager of Mrs. Granger's barracks called out.

"ZXM1980!" Schwartz called out, from the bellies of the mine. Both AXF346 and ZXM1980 slowly left their positions, led on by their managers, to the infirmary, and were not seen again. Mrs. Granger had actually seen AXF346 led into one of the gas chambers, wearing the saddest expression anyone had ever seen. At this, Mrs. Granger could not hold in a small sob, and ended up spread out on one of the torture machines, receiving 150 lashes to her back, and forced to spend a night with a Dementor. Forced to spend the night reliving her worst memories, Mrs. Granger had a tough sleep that night.

_She was five, and her older brother was teasing her something awful for making a comment about his teeth, and had received a beating from her father from disagreeing with her older brother…she was sixteen, and had finally plucked up the courage to ask her crush to the end of the year prom, only to be coldly rejected…she was twenty two, pregnant with Hermione, listening to a doctor saying that a third trimester accident may result in Hermione being still-born…she was thirty, and five year old Hermione was hospitalized for a severe allergic reaction and fever…she was thirty eight, at the funeral of her brother while Hermione was off in her third year at Hogwarts in danger of a man named Sirius Black…_

Waking up felt like a miracle to Mrs. Granger who had spent the night sweating and crying over her dark memories. Memories that she would sooner do without.

Mr. Granger may not have had to spend the night with an invisible Dementor, but he had had his fair share of unpleasant dreams, which had him waking up just as uncertainly. In his nightmare, he had walked in on Hermione and Ron snogging, and just having a general good time, when suddenly, Ron melted away to be replaced by one of the Death Eater sentries, who raised a wand on Hermione, whispered an incantation, and watched as a jet of green light flew from the wand along with the sound of rushing wind, hit Hermione, who crumpled, untouched, but unmistakably dead. Mr. Granger had awoken shaking with silent sobs.

"Up, up, up!!" Schwartz was walking along the barracks, whacking everything and everyone in sight with his beating stick. Breakfast was once again a very pitiful meal, but Mr. Granger was surprised and nothing short of overjoyed to be joining his wife on the digging team.

"AXF550!" Madam Gyro called. Mrs. Granger was very surprised, and no less than frightened to observe Mariah Creek get uncertainly to her feet and follow Madam Gyro, visibly shaking.

Later, Mrs. and Mr. Granger were making the final adjustments to the pit that the team Mrs. Granger had been digging for started yesterday. It was slow work, as pickaxes didn't dig nearly as well as shovels, but they made good progress nevertheless. A few minutes later, a Death Eater stopped by, and dumped a load of bodies into the pit.

"Bury them." He ordered. No one dared disobey, not wanting to be whipped and forced to spend the night reliving their worst memories. Everything went along well until Mrs. Granger overturned a woman's body, and found the hauntingly dead face of Mariah Creek staring back. Mrs. Granger couldn't hold it in. She turned away from Mariah's body and vomited. Mr. Granger performed the cross, kissed Mariah's forehead, and silently thanked god that Nick was still in the mines. Mr. Granger held onto his wife as she was consumed by grief, which was not helped when she recognized a girl who had been one of her favorite patients.

Mr. Granger spent the rest of the day comforting his sobbing wife, which meant that it was his turn to sleep with a Dementor. As he fell asleep, the Dementor taking away all his almost already nonexistent happy thoughts, he felt, for the first time in his life, a stab of anger towards the world to which his daughter belonged. He never blamed Hermione for what had been happening, he'd be a fool to do so, especially as he knew she fought tooth and nail for justice, but it was wizards, nevertheless, that were destroying the Grangers and all their friends.

The next day was simply a misery for both Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Mr. Granger had, in whispers, told Nick Creek about Mariah, and he had refused to touch his already miniscule breakfast, and as if to complicate matters, Nick was placed with the diggers, while Mr. Granger was sent back to the mines, and Mrs. Granger was transferred to a sort of machine shop, where it was her job to maintain the instruments of torture. The three worked hard, but they were loosing steam, especially Nick, who was trying to deal with his grief, became less and less of a productive worker, refusing all his meals and slowly but surely, just wasting away. Day by day, hour by hour and minute by minute, the cycle of life at the camp continued, and every day, more bodies were buried, more lives taken, more families grieving their losses, and more people loosing the will to live. For the first time ever, Mr. Granger felt like he might just be living in a nightmare.

The only thing that kept either Mr. or Mrs. Granger going was something their daughter had told them. Something that her Headmaster, Dumbledore had said. He had once said that love was one of the most powerful forms of magic there was. It was easy to see that the ultimate goal of the Death Eaters was to make as many people as miserable as possible, in the most inhuman ways. Hermione had always said that Dumbledore believed that love would end this conflict, and be the force that brought the dark side down, and so the Grangers tried desperately to remember love, and remember that there were people out there they loved, and who loved them, but with each passing day, there seemed to be less and less love around, and people were starting to loose hope as they watched the ones who had made them strong with love pass away. It would only be a matter of time…it would only be a matter of time until they could see Hermione again…and they would be free.


	9. Chapter 9: The Trials of Suffering

NINE: The trials of suffering

The next few days were excruciatingly hard on Hermione. Dazed by grief over her parents' capture, she blindly wandered from room to room in the Burrow not really knowing, or caring, what she was doing. This frightened Harry and Ron, who knew that she was trying to keep her feelings to herself, and both could see that it was slowly eating her up.

"How are you doing, Mione?" Ron would ask her time after time, using his pet name for her that he only used in intimate situations.

"I'm fine, Ronald." Hermione would snap back. Ron could tell, though, that she was not being truthful, especially since Hermione had never called Ron by his full name if she was upset about something. Harry became increasingly sad, and he expected Ron felt more than ten times what he was feeling, as Hermione began to withdraw.

"I hate seeing her like this," Ron moaned, "I wish there was something…anything I could do."

"She's pining, Ron," Mrs. Weasley said, though she didn't sound at all certain of what she was saying. "What do you expect? Give the poor dear some time."

"I don't know if time is the right thing." Ron said, though barely more than a whisper. Though neither said so, Harry and Mrs. Weasley agreed. The group had been back at the Burrow for three days since Hermione and Ron had returned with Malfoy from Muggle London, and the night Hermione's parents were taken, and she had barely touched her meals and spent most of her time lying on a cot in Ginny's room, staring at the ceiling. She frequently woke up in cold sweats, having endured a tirade of nightmares ever since her return. Ginny even secretly confided in Harry that she had seen spots on Hermione's sheets that suggested that she might be wetting her bed. For the first time that he could think of, Harry had noticed that the twins were at home more than they were in their shop, and that their eyes, which were normally a very bright blue, due to the fact that they almost always were twinkling with mischief and plots, were now darker, more mature and concerned.

Hermione was feeling a weight pulling against her body that she never felt before. Ron had once expressed shock at Hermione when she was trying to help Harry puzzle out why his first crush, Cho Chang, during their fifth year at Hogwarts, spent most of her time, including the time she and Harry kissed, crying. Ron had said that to feel all the feelings Hermione had said Cho was feeling, at once, someone would just explode. Hermione had retorted that Ron had had the emotional range of a teaspoon, but these days, she felt like he might just have a point. Her parents had been taken away. The parents she had grown up thinking knew just about anything, and were nearly, well…invincible. The parents she had placed all of her daughterly trust and love into, the ones she trusted with her innermost, and deepest secrets to, and in the time of a few minutes, had gone from her life, and she had no idea if they were living or dead, which in many ways, was more painful than knowing outright.

Hermione's parents had been, first and foremost, the ones who had taught her to love. They had always been there for her, with a kiss and a hug, a snuggle, or a shoulder to cry on if she needed it, and she had tried her best to reciprocate. Now, however, they were gone. Voldemort and the Death Eaters had taken away the two people that Hermione cared so much about. She no longer had a shoulder to cry on, and for the first time in her life, she felt a hatred so absolute that she felt like every part of her from her soul to the tips of her hair was turning to ice. Deciding that a bit of fresh air would be good, Hermione began to walk outside, glancing up to see Ron, Harry and Mrs. Weasley looking at her, all of them looking extremely sad and worried.

_What are they looking at me that way for? _Hermione thought irritably, _it's not like they don't know what's going on. I don't need their pity. I don't think they'd even understand._ She sat down on a bench in front of the shed where Mr. Weasley had made his collection of Muggle artifacts. _And anyway, it's not like I really—_she tried to ignore the sensation like 100 Death Eaters simultaneously putting her under the Cruciatus Curse—_feel all that bad about this_. In the back of her head, a choir of voices was singing a symphony of pure agony.

Ron watched Hermione leave, her face screwed up in her unspoken, fathoms deep pain. He could not explain why, but every time he looked at that beautiful, loving face that was now so hardened with hate and wasted from pain, he could hear the same symphony of agony in his own head.

"I'm going to go see Hermione." He told Harry and Mrs. Weasley. "I can't let her torture herself like this any more." Harry and Mrs. Weasley both nodded, not knowing what else to do. Ron followed Hermione at a distance. He saw her sit on the bench in front of his father's shed, staring at it, but not really seeing it. Looking at her again, he formed a plan. It was an absolutely absurd plan, but she needed to let go. Biting his lower lip, he walked up and sat down beside her. She made no sign that she had noticed.

"Hi, Hermione, love." Ron said as quietly and lovingly as he could manage. She still showed no signs of having noticed Ron. He bit his lip again, knelt down in front of her and embraced her in a fatherly hug, making it as much as possible like the types of hugs his own father used on him when he had been upset as a child.

"Ron…mmf…geeroff me…" Hermione mumbled, fighting against Ron's embrace, but Ron would not let go, and instead, he pulled her in closer, tighter. Hermione continued to struggle, not only against Ron now, but an overwhelming flood of memories.

_Alasdair Granger was sobbing with delight as he handed his wife their newborn daughter, Hermione…Alasdair Granger was pushing two year old Hermione on her swing, laughing at the delighted screams, splutters and gurgles emanating from his daughter…Sarah Granger was helping Hermione bake her first batch of cookies, telling her off for getting flour all over the floor…Sarah Granger was cuddling a crying seven year old Hermione who had been teased at school…_

"Dad? Mum…dad…no, no, stop it!" Hermione was starting to panic as her buried feelings raged. "Dad…mum…no…stop it…LET ME GO, MUM!" Hermione began to sob into Ron, the memories of her parents overwhelming her. With each breath she took, she sobbed harder and more hysterically, gripping Ron as tightly as she could. Ron hugged her back, tears stinging his own eyes.

Hermione neither knew, nor cared, how long she had been sobbing, but it felt immensely good as she finally regained a measure of control over herself. Though about all she could feel right now was a hollow sadness, she was also feeling immensely guilty for not having noticed what she had. Ron may not have understood everything she was going through, as he still had his parents by his side, but he had been there when Hermione's parents were taken, and he had more than adequately proved his love for her, and would have been by her side in an instant if she had wanted to open up, easily giving her a shoulder to cry on, and then there was Harry. How could she be so stupid? Harry was her brother, and had always been so, but even more than that, he had seen his parents die when he was a mere baby, and then met his godfather for two brief years before watching him die, and then again stand by as Dumbledore, the closest thing Harry had to a grandparent, was killed. He would certainly have understood how Hermione felt, especially the part where she felt like there was now a gaping hole in her heart where her love for her parents was stored.

"I'm sorry Ron," Hermione said in a constricted voice, "I'm so, so sorry. I've been acting like a fool, haven't I?"

"No," Ron said, cradling her head in his hands, and staring into her red, puffy but still beautiful chocolate colored eyes. The sincerity in his voice made Hermione want to cry again. "No, you have not acted like a fool, Hermione." He gave her a comforting smile. "We all love you, Hermione. Me, Harry, Ginny, mum, dad, my brothers, and most certainly your parents. We will all be here for you no matter what." He pulled her into his chest, kissing her passionately on the face. Hermione allowed Ron's warmth and love to spread over her, making her feel relatively contented. She allowed Ron to steer her back into the house, spent, but happier for her cry and Ron's words of comfort.

Back inside, Ron and Hermione noticed that Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt had arrived, and were deep in discussion with Mr. Weasley. Harry and Ginny were on the couch, snuggling. Ron and Hermione joined them, only to be joined a second later by Lupin and Shacklebolt.

"Well, Harry," Shacklebolt began, his deep, slow voice as soothing as ever, "I've run every test I could think of on this locket, and I can only conclude that it is indeed the Horcrux we've been looking for." Harry looked up, excitement coursing through him.

"How are we going to destroy it?"

"Well," Lupin said, "that's what we were hoping to have you shed some light on."

"Me?" Harry said, taken aback.

"Yes," Lupin said. "It seems that there are some powers that the Dark Lord placed on all of his Horcruxes that could only be discovered and worked by specific people."

"So you think I might be able to…to…find some traces of magic that you cannot see?" Harry asked.

"I do not know." Lupin responded, "however, I think we are all agreed that Voldemort had indeed transferred some of his powers to you the night he tried to kill you."

"I don't understand." Harry said, frowning.

"There are ways for wizards to specifically be able to see traces of magic from another wizard," Shacklebolt explained, "you have to have either taught them, or know them well enough that you can tell the main ways that they make use of their magical gifts." Harry nodded; everything now much clearer, as he remembered something that Dumbledore said when he and Harry were searching for the Horcrux '_I taught Tom Riddle, I know his style_'. It only made sense that Voldemort may have transferred some of those abilities to sense his style along with the other "gifts" he'd transferred the night he tried to kill Harry.

"Right, let me see it." Harry said, reaching out to take the Horcrux from Shacklebolt. He looked at it, but nothing came to him, no burst of understanding as to how to destroy the object.

"Can't we just blow it up or something?" Harry asked Shacklebolt.

"It would be unwise of us to assume that Voldemort did not think of that, Harry, and therefore not protect it from such types of harm, but there is a chance that there might be a curse powerful enough to break through such a shield, however…" Shacklebolt's voice died away.

"Yes?" Harry prompted him.

"Well…" Shacklebolt started slowly and hesitantly, "there's a good chance that whoever decides to cast such a strong spell might have to be willing to consider giving up their life." Harry was about to respond when he heard someone give a small sob, and saw Ginny running to her room.

"Um…can we maybe continue this conversation tomorrow?" Harry asked, taken aback by Ginny's abrupt departure, but desperate to go see her, and make sure she was okay.

"Certainly we can continue at another time." Shacklebolt said calmly. Harry thanked him, and made his way up the stairs.

"Ginny?" He called softly, entering her room.

"Harry!" At first, she made to run to him, but seemed to think better of the idea, and sat back down on her bed. "Harry, can you call Hermione for me?"

"Why?"

"No particular reason. I just want to talk to her for a few minutes." Harry hesitated, then nodded, and walked down the stairs.

"Ginny wants me?" Hermione asked, surprised, when Harry told her. Harry nodded, and Hermione left, still looking a little shocked.

"Ginny?" Hermione entered the room, looking around. Ginny still was sitting on her bed. She wasn't crying, though her eyes suggested that she had been, but she didn't look sad, either. Merely confused and worried. Hermione moved slowly and sat down beside her friend.

"Oh, hi Hermione." Ginny said as Hermione sat down.

"What's wrong, Ginny?" Hermione asked gently.

"I…it's…I was…thinking…about Harry. Do you think he really does love me?" Hermione was totally taken aback by this question. It seemed so obvious, when Ginny had told her of the make-up on the train, and the way she and Harry had spent two nights together, and then, much later of course, Ginny finally felt comfortable enough to tell Hermione about the pond, after the wedding, and everything that had happened. Hermione had gone stark white when she had learned that they had been so intimate, and when she got onto asking if Ginny's period was regular, Ginny had actually burst out laughing, which was slightly offending to Hermione. After regaining a measure of control over her giggles, Ginny had managed to say that she was certain that while Harry had not used the resisting charm on himself, he had charmed the appropriate part of his body to be safe. After that, of course, Hermione had joined in laughing; admitting ruefully that she wished Ron would do the same to her. No, there was no doubt in Hermione's mind that Harry loved her.

"Why do you ask?" Hermione said to Ginny.

"Well, I just was thinking…do you think he was right, to call off our romance at the end of last year? I mean, I thought he did it maybe as a cover up; that he didn't like me as much as he thought he would…I…I…" Ginny's voice was constricted by a lump forming in her throat. Hermione's brow was furrowed. She refrained from speaking for a few minutes.

"Ginny," Hermione said at long last, "I think there can be no doubt that Harry loves you with all his heart. I think he broke up with you because he felt that you would be in more danger from Voldemort, being the girlfriend of a marked man, and that he would feel stronger, knowing you were safe."

"I know," Ginny said, not worrying about sounding rude, "he told me the same stuff last year. I was just thinking…about…well, he did do it for love didn't he? And…he was right, wasn't he?"

"Right?" Hermione asked, nonplussed.

"About us being together. I…I thought…about doing…_it_ again. What if he decides to go all hero-like and destroy that Horcrux, and what if he dies doing it? Shacklebolt said he might. I couldn't bear…I couldn't stand to think…to see him…and what if he's right, about me being bait if we're together? After what happened to your…your parents…I can't…I don't want…to think about it." Hermione put her arm around Ginny, and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"You were thinking of breaking up with Harry again?" Hermione asked, soft, low and concerned. Ginny nodded, tears flowing thick and fast from her eyes. Hermione sighed, got off the bed and knelt in front of Ginny, taking the younger girl's head in her hands, brushing away tears.

"Ginny, listen to me, please," Hermione said gently but surely, "I do not think for a moment that you two breaking up will make either of you stronger, or help either of you for any reason. I think Harry has come to accept this, too, and I'm sure he realizes that having you as his soul mate will make him stronger, and I think he knows that you, that all of us, are in danger no matter who goes out, or doesn't go out with each other. I understand how you feel about loosing him, Ginny, but don't, for a second, think he doesn't have the exact same feelings about you. We all do. I can't imagine how I'd feel if my parents died, or if Ron died, or you, or your parents died. As long as we stay together, and pledge to love and trust each other, I think we'll be as safe as we can be in this situation. Harry definitelyloves you, Ginny, and I know you love him, and right now, you can have no greater gift for each other. Your love will be your greatest shield, Ginny, never forget that." Ginny burst into tears, and threw herself on Hermione. For many minutes, neither girl could speak. They just hugged, Ginny feeling that a great weight had been lifted from her chest.

"I love you, Hermione." Ginny finally managed to croak out. Hermione hugged Ginny tighter.

"I love you too, Gin." She said, and gave Ginny's forehead a quick, soft kiss. Finally, Ginny fell asleep in the comforting embrace of her sister. Hermione gently placed Ginny in bed, and walked downstairs. Harry, Ron and Mr. Weasley were seated by the fire in the living room. Harry was looking glum, and it seemed that Mr. Weasley and Ron were trying to comfort him.

"What am I supposed to do?" He moaned to Ron and Mr. Weasley, "everything seemed to be great during the wedding, I mean I was with Ginny…I was happy, I felt like I'd done the right thing, getting back together…but then, Hermione's parents got attacked, and I don't know right from wrong any more. There's just such a good chance that any of us could be attacked…I can't bear the thought of Ginny dying." He sighed, slumping against the couch. Ron put his arm around Harry.

"It won't be easy, Harry, but we're going to have to fight. We just don't have any other option." Ron said.

"What about Ginny? What am I supposed to do?" Harry said.

"Just make sure that you can love her as much as possible, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, "because until something more happens, our love is all that we have." Harry nodded.

"I'm going to bed." He said, and got up. He left for the stairs and made his way up to Ron's room. He stopped by Ginny's room on the way, and saw her soundly sleeping, looking completely angelical as she lay there, her hair flowing all over her exquisite body. He gently moved a few locks of hair out of her face to look at her beautiful eyes, which were tightly shut.

"Help me, Ginny." He whispered.

When Ginny awoke the next morning, she came down to find Harry, Ron and Hermione already at the table, nursing mugs of coffee, and pouring over '_The Daily Prophet_', the wizarding newspaper.

"Good morning, Ginny." Ron said, trying, and failing, to sound cheerful.

"What's up?" Ginny asked, pulling up a chair beside Harry and helping herself to some coffee.

"It's…it's…here, read that." Harry said, giving the paper to Ginny. She was shocked to see the headline.

DRAMA AT DIGGORY RESIDENCE

By Albert Frieze

CONDUCTING rounds as captain of the 445th Auror squad, serving the 14th sector of command, Ministry Senior Auror and Admiral of the Wartime Alliance of British Wizards, Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody discovered signs of possible Death Eater activity at the house of Mr. Amos Diggory. Mr. Diggory's wife, Mrs. Sylvia Diggory has been found dead. As of this press release, Mr. Diggory has missed about a week of work, and the Ministry of Magic has officially listed him as "missing".

Neither Abraxamus Hornswallow, Diggory's boss at the Department for the regulation and control of Magical Creatures, or Mr. Moody were available for comment.

In an official Ministry press release, however, Minister Scrimgeour has affirmed that Mr. Diggory is currently attending a conference on Magical Creature control in Japan.

"Mr. Diggory?" Ginny asked, horrified.

"I heard they were naming him as a suspect in the killings," Ron said, shaking his head, "because of his "missing" status."

"Whatever the truth," Harry said, "this proves that the Death Eaters have left London."

"What, you think they're moving this way?" Hermione asked.

"It sure looks like it." Harry said.

"Harry, Hermione, Remus is in the fire and would like to speak to you two." Mr. Weasley said, coming up to where the four were discussing the news. Harry and Hermione left, and went over to the fireplace.

"Morning, Moony," Harry said, trying to sound unconcerned, "how's things?"

"If you have read the paper, I think you can answer that," Lupin responded. "Listen, Harry, I think I've found the right charm to use to make our vows to love and trust each other, like you suggested a little while back, and what with all the suspicious activity that's been happening, I think now might be as good as ever to do so. You agree?"

"Absolutely!" Harry said. "What charm is it?"

"Tonks and I'll be right over and we can discuss it." Lupin said. "Hermione," he added, "I think we ought to leave you in charge of rounding up the old DA members, since I think you'll be the one to figure out how to contact them, especially if your fake Galleons don't work anymore."

"I'm pretty certain they will." Hermione said, not sounding at all certain. "Harry, go get yours now, and we'll try them out." Harry nodded and disappeared for a few seconds, returning with his fake galleon.

"Here goes nothing." Harry muttered, tapping the Galleon and changing the date on the coin to the current date, and the location to the Burrow.

"Ow!" Ron suddenly called out from the kitchen, his hand reaching for his pocket. "I forgot I had this!" He exclaimed, withdrawing his own fake Galleon. Suddenly, completing the picture, Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom apparated out of thin air beside Ron.

"Well, I guess the coins still work." Hermione said smiling at Ron, Luna and Neville, who were all clearly wondering why their coins, which had been dormant for so many years, had suddenly fired up again.

"Well, I'm glad they work, and now, I had better get over here," Lupin said, "we've already wasted more than enough time. The Death Eaters could be walking up your street any second now."

"Do you think that's likely?" Harry asked, apprehensively, but Lupin merely smiled and withdrew his head, the fires turning emerald only a minute later, heralding his arrival. Tonks arrived a few seconds after, as well as many more members of the DA, including, to the discomfort of Harry and Ron, Cho Chang and Lavender Brown.

"Well, this is a good turnout!" Lupin said happily, "we only need wait a few more moments as I've already alerted the rest of the Order."

"Harry, I…er…I just want to know…what's going on?" Neville asked uncomfortably.

"Oh! Yes, right…sorry," Harry stammered, Neville's question taking him by surprise, "well, you see, the Order has been asking me what plans I have to fight Voldemort…" Neville and his fellow DA members winced horribly "…and my thinking is that we ought to have a big army, to match what will be on Voldemort's side, and I thought that this would be a good use for the DA and any other students fourth year and older to come pitch in. I also felt that we need to pledge to love and trust each other, as I am dead certain that love and trust, neither of which Voldemort has, will be our saving grace, and Moony here has found a charm to do so, and that is why we are here."

"Hear, hear!" Neville, Luna and Ron chorused.

"So, Moony, while we wait for the others," Harry said, "I really want to hear about this charm."

"Well," Lupin said, "it is called the Fiducia charm, and properly cast, it acts as a sort of method of implanting a part of yourself in another, namely the part of your heart that loves and trusts the other, thereby providing a bond of strength between the two of you."

"Does it only work on two people?" Ron asked.

"Well, no, however, for the purposes of my explanation, two seemed like an acceptable number." Lupin responded, grinning slightly.

"How does the charm work? How do you cast it?" Harry asked, eager to hear more. Lupin thought a moment.

"Well," Lupin said, "as you face the person you are working with, you focus on your feelings for them, namely your love and trust for the person, and you must be focusing on it with every part of your body, allow your love and trust to fill you up, pledge to love and trust them, and then you must speak the incantation thus: _Amorefiducia Infinitus _and your partner will return to you: _Amorefides Infinitus_. You must be cautious however," Lupin added, suddenly stern, "for if you cannot allow your love and trust to fill you up, or you do not love or trust somebody with all your heart, the charm will not work properly, and you will not be able to confide your love and trust into that person, and neither of you will have the benefit of the protection."

"I don't know, Moony," Harry said, suddenly nervous, "this sounds an awful lot like a Horcrux." Lupin smiled.

"I won't say there aren't similairities," Lupin said, "but you must understand that to make a Horcrux, you must commit the most supreme act of evil: murder, whereas with the Fiducia charm, you are not murdering or committing evil, but rather sharing something with another that you would share anyway."

"Eh?" Harry said, totally lost. Lupin smiled at Harry's uncomprehending.

"When you love and trust someone, Harry, you put a bit of your soul and heart into that person, because, and I'm sure you know the feeling, that you feel you can trust them with anything, and you feel that you can talk to them about anything. That act, Harry, the mere act of communicating those bits of yourself to them, installs parts of your soul into your friend. Even Muggles know of this. The Fiducia charm merely strengthens the bond, and acts something like a rubber band between all the parties in question and allows them to feel secure within each other's love and trust." Harry relaxed. This wasn't nearly as bad as it sounded. In fact, he did know exactly what Lupin was talking about. He had confided much of himself into Ron, Ginny and Hermione, and they in him and each other, that he felt that he did have a bit of Ron, Ginny and Hermione's souls in him, and he definitely loved and trusted all of them, not to mention the Weasley family, Neville, Luna, his old roommates from Hogwarts, Lupin, Tonks, Moody, and so on. In fact, he felt like everyone in the room was someone he loved or trusted, and yet, he couldn't help but question how he felt about Cho, as his eyes lingered on her. It was true that he fancied her at one time, but he never really confided in her, nor she in him, and their relationship had never really gotten anywhere, and they broke up before they really knew each other. Harry saw Ron looking at Lavender, clearly wondering the same thing.

Finally, it seemed that the entire Order of the Phoenix was there. Harry was pleased to see that Hagrid had brought his pink umbrella.

"Well, now that everyone's here, shall we get cracking?" Lupin asked. "Harry, would you like to start?"

"Okay," Harry said, surprised. "Ron…er…will you…?" Ron stepped forward, pulling out his wand. Harry pointed his at Ron.

"There's no need to be so threatening, mate." Ron said, grinning at the wand leveled at his chest.

"Sorry." Harry said, lowering his wand so that he looked less threatening. He looked at Ron for a few minutes, allowing every fiber in his body to reverberate with his love and trust of Ron. Finally, he spoke.

"Ron Bilius Weasley, you are, and have been from the day we met, the brother I never had. I, Harry James Potter pledge to love and trust you from now till the end of time. _Amorefiducia Infinitus_." A stream of silver light connected the two wands, and a bead of pure white moved from Harry's wand to the end of Ron's, waiting for Ron's speech.

"Aww, isn't that cute!" Fred exclaimed from a corner, chuckling like mad.

"Look, they're _proposing_!" George said, guffawing.

"Can we come to the wedding?" they asked together.

"Boys!" Mrs. Weasley said sternly. Ron shook his head, grinning and indicating his brothers, and made his return speech.

"Harry James Potter, you are, and will always be, the mate that will be closest to my heart. I, Ronald Bilius Weasley pledge my love and trust to you for evermore and on. _Amorefides Infinitus_." The bead of white light moved to the middle of the stream of silver, exploded, and showered the two in a brief, but beautiful, dome of golden red.

"Well, they _are _a bit like marriage vows, arent they?" Ginny said, grinning at Hermione, who could hardly keep a straight face. Harry called on Ginny next, wiping off her smirk to be replaced with a look of slight apprehension. Harry repeated the process of allowing his love and trust of Ginny to fill him up, though it wasn't entirely nescissary. Just to look at her did that for him. He cleared his throat and spoke, his voice not quite as steady as it had been with Ron, and as he lifted his wand to her with his right hand, took her free hand in his left, smiling down at her perfect face.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, you are already my soul mate, and I love and trust you with all my being, and will until the death of the dawn, however in light of the dark times that lie ahead, I want to make certain that this bond is as strong as possible between us, and make sure I, Harry James Potter, do not forget my commitment to you. _Amorefiducia Infinitus_." There were tears in Ginny's eyes as the bead of white light touched the tip of her wand, and she gave Harry's hand a warm squeeze.

"Harry James Potter, you are my one true love, my one soul mate, and the one whom I love and trust more than any other, and will love and trust for time immemorial. I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, give to you the strengthening of our bond, so that we may remain close. _Amorefides Infinitus_." For some reason the dome of gold red light seemed to last a little longer than it had between Harry and Ron. Harry enjoyed milling around amoungst the Order memebers and the DA members, giving them his love and trust. When he spoke to Neville, tears formed in Neville's eyes, and Harry realized that he had never really told Neville what he meant to him. Hagrid had spoken very roughly as tears ran down his tangled beard about how he felt Harry to be someone special from the moment he first laid eyes upon him, and thanked him for all he had done for him, especially when it came to Norbert, Buckbeak and Aragog, Hagrid's favorite monster pets, saying that Harry justly deserved his love and trust.

The most moving, for Harry, though, after Ginny, was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who both said that he may not be related by blood, but he was still their son, and Mrs. Weasley had nearly keeled over with joy when Harry had said that he had little to no doubt that he would soon be an in-law. Lupin was the best perhaps, for Lupin was the last of the Marauders, the last of Harry's father's best friends, and when the bead they had formed exploded, it glowed, not golden red, but rather a very deep blue which sparked a memory in Harry that he was pretty sure was him as a baby snuggled between the warm laps of his parents, looking up at a cloudless summer sky.

Because everybody had to pledge to love everyone else, the whole ceremony took quite a bit of time, and breaks had to be called for a delicious lunch prepared by Mrs. Weasley. Harry had been very happy with the outcome, for everyone seemed to be able to love and trust each other. Even when he had come around to Cho, he found that he had enough respect left for her to trust her enough to make the charm work between them, and Ron had evidently found the same peace with Lavender, even though Ron and Harry had both come close to chucking Cho and Lavender out when each, in turn to their respective boys, had made rather snide, hurtful comments about Hermione and Ginny.

After awhile, things started to wind down, and many people had already left to apparate back to their homes, now that the charms had been cast. Minerva McGonagall, with some assistance and fast thinking from Harry, had informed the members of the DA what was about to happen, and ask that a few of the DA people who showed up be in charge of recruiting appropriately aged Hogwarts students. Finally, everyone had left, except for McGonagall, Lupin, Tonks, Moody, Shacklebolt, Luna and Neville, who were graciously invited to stay for dinner by Mrs. Weasley. When she lay down a wonderful steak and kidney pudding, Hermione's face fell and her eyes filled with tears.

"What's wrong, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked kindly, trying to not sound too offended.

"Oh, it's nothing…this meal used to be a favorite of dad's. Mum hated it, but she agreed to have it occasionally, so we ended up having this every third weekend or something like that." Mrs. Weasley put her hand on Hermione's shoulder, no longer offended.

"If you want something else, I could easily make you a different dish." She said quietly.

"No, no, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, "I share dad's love for this…I just don't want to…remember it." She put a few bites of the pudding in her mouth, finding it difficult to swallow as the taste brought back painful memories. Crying silently, Hermione managed a fairly healthy sized portion, watched closely and concernedly by Ron and Neville, while Harry and Ginny enjoyed feeding each other, trying not to have too much fun for Hermione's sake.

Everyone was finishing up dinner, feeling extremely well fed, even Hermione, who had had the toughest time eating, and content. Ginny had sat down upon Harry's lap and was wearing and playing with Harry's glasses while he squinted down at her trying to find a few locks of hair to play with, while Ginny giggled, keeping her hair well out of reach. Hermione and Ron were playing with one of Fred and George's reusable Hangmans, while the twins themselves were playing one of their Muggle card games with Bill and Fleur, while Mr. Weasley did the dishes with Mrs. Weasley, and Tonks and Lupin enjoyed an intimate moment by the fire, and Mad Eye Moody patrolled the outside of the house. McGonagall was talking to a relatively inattentive Lupin about the meeting when a sound, much like an air raid siren, only many times more menacing, sounded.

"What's that?" Harry, Hermione, Luna and Neville chorused.

"Security Siren," Mad Eye Moody responded, "I had it installed for the wedding, and no one seems to have disabled it."

"Do you really think we would, in the middle of a war like this?" Mrs. Weasley said, coming into the living room looking shaken.

"They're coming!" Mr. Weasley barked urgently, gesturing towards the field opposite field where innumerable black cloaked figures were moving towards them. Lupin, Tonks, Mr. Weasley, Mad Eye Moody and McGonagall had made to grab their wands, looking apprehensively down Mr. Weasley's line of vision. Ginny quickly handed Harry back his glasses, which he put on hurriedly, looking out the window.

"Merlin's beard." He whispered. At least 25 to 30 Death Eaters were advancing on the Burrow. Quickly, Mr. Weasley, Lupin, Tonks, Mad Eye and McGonagall left the house to meet the Death Eaters.

"You lot stay inside!" Mr. Weasley barked at Harry and the others.

"No way!" Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna chorused, and followed the others outside.

In only a few minutes, a furious battle was taking place. The Death Eaters pressed their advantage, easily outnumbering the Order. Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny were battling two Death Eaters apiece, firing off any old hex that came to mind, while Mad Eye Moody expertly fended off six at once with two wands, while Lupin, Tonks and McGonagall all battled their own Death Eater group. Curses and hexes were tossed left and right, no one knowing who cast the other spell.

"Harry, on your left!" McGonagall bellowed, giving Harry just enough time to roll away from a curse that left him momentarily deaf in his left ear.

"Ginny!" Harry bellowed. Ginny had been battling two Death Eaters at once, but had failed to see a third come up behind her. Harry threw himself at her, pinning her down as the curse shot over his head, catching on a tree and causing it to burst into flame. Harry looked up and surveyed the battle. It looked better than he would have otherwise hoped. Moody had brought down his charges, and while Lupin was still battling a Death Eater, the Death Eater seemed to be loosing steam. Amazingly, the Death Eaters that Neville and Luna had been fighting were knocked out cold, and both of Ginny's Death Eaters were now showing the result of her marvelous Bat-Bogey Hex, even if Harry had knocked her over. Mr. Weasley and Lupin had finally brought down their Death Eaters, but Tonks was still going at it. After a few more intense curses, something finally hit Tonks. She rose into the air, an eerie green glow running the outline of her body.

"TONKS!!" Lupin roared. Suddenly showing an angry side that Harry had never seen before, Lupin, starting to look much more like a werewolf, charged the remaining Death Eater down and used some form of a curse that caused the Death Eater to go down. Lupin ran for Tonks.

"Oh, thank god, I think she's only unconscious." Lupin said, relieved, kissing Tonks' forehead.

"Well, that was easy." Mad Eye Moody commented.

"Easy!" Ron spat, helping a shocked Hermione to a sitting position, who sported many deep cuts. He steadied her, conjuring up cloths and bandages for Hermione, and began to wipe away the blood.

"Unfortunately, yes, it was easy." Mr. Weasley said sadly. "That was just a scrimmage; a little show of what is to come if we go any further into this, only it'll be more than ten times worse."

"Here, let me see those wounds, Hermione." Lupin said gently. He pointed his wand at her. "_Episkey_." He muttered, and her wounds healed as he ran his wand over them, muttering the healing charm.

"Why do things have to be like this?" Ginny asked her father.

"Because this is how you-know-who works." Mr. Weasley said. "He forces people to come over to his side by making them suffer, and then using their newfound hatred to his advantage."

"How are we supposed to destroy a man bent on making our lives miserable?" Ron asked indignantly. Mr. Weasley shrugged.

"I guess we will just have to go through these trials of suffering. Our only hope is to try and not loose our ability to love, and we may stand a chance. Come, we'd better go inside and get some rest." And with that, everyone followed Mr. Weasley back into the Burrow, exhausted and shaken up.


	10. Chapter 10: Liberating the Camp

TEN: Liberating the Camp

The attack on the Burrow the previous evening had wrought a bit of a change on the inhabitants of the Burrow. Mr. Weasley had shown himself to be taciturn and moody, often keeping to himself and spending much of his time alone in his and Mrs. Weasley's bedroom. Mrs. Weasley was showing signs of mild depression, and had been most upset when Bill, Fleur and Charlie had said that they were planning on returning to France and Romania. She begged them not to go, and had burst into rather hysterical tears. It had taken the combined efforts of Mr. Weasley, Ron and Ginny to calm her down.

"We'll write to you every day." Bill promised.

"Absolutely, no question. I may live many thousands of miles away, but I still love you with all my heart." Charlie added. Mrs. Weasley could not manage a verbal goodbye to her eldest sons, but had to hug and kiss them five times over apiece before they managed to floo out of the Burrow. Mr. Weasley was no keener to have them leave, though he was a little quicker to understand the significance of their quest. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Tonks and Lupin were putting their energies into the next phase of the war, which everyone agreed should begin with a combined effort to finish finding the Horcruxes, and rescuing Hermione's parents and the countless other Muggles imprisoned in the Death Eaters' camps.

"How exactly should we proceed?" Harry asked Lupin that night, "I just can't seem to make a plan." Lupin smiled.

"Well, Alastor has been doing some excellent reconnaissance to find any potential camps," Lupin said, "though," he added, turning towards Hermione, "we have made disappointingly slow progress, I'm afraid." Hermione merely nodded, as any mention of her parents, or of their captors, was a touchy subject with her, and everyone quickly decided, that at least in her company, the subject could be considered taboo.

"Is Mad Eye going to keep us informed?" Ron asked.

"Naturally," Lupin said, "I'm hoping for a report by tomorrow at least."

"Have we looked into the Horcrux?" Harry asked, trying to ignore the fact that Ginny's body had stiffened a bit when he said the word.

"Yes, Harry, and there are a few methods I would like to try to destroy it, but I do not think that this is the time for that." Lupin looked at Harry for a few moments before speaking again. "Harry, have you looked at those memories Severus gave you yet?"

"No," Harry said, "for starters, I don't have a pensieve. Are you suggesting that they may have a clue? Because I don't trust Snape; I think he may be trying to lure us into a trap."

"It is possible," Lupin admitted, "but I think that, from our standpoint, we must look at every potential clue, even if it is a red herring. Nevertheless, I think we ought to give Severus a chance."

"A chance!" Ron spat, "Haven't we given him all the chances he deserves? Hasn't he proven himself, after all those chances, untrustworthy?" Harry nodded in agreement, but he was starting to get curious again, so he turned to Lupin, thinking that to trust a memory might not necessarily mean they had to trust Snape.

"What about the pensieve?" Harry asked. Lupin suddenly smiled.

"I think you'll find that an easy problem to solve Harry," Lupin said, "you see, Dumbledore's will was found, and he bequeathed his pensieve to you. I daresay he foresaw you finding uses for it now and then. Hang on, I'll floo McGonagall, it's still in her office." Harry and Lupin got up. Harry went back up to his and Ron's room, to collect Snape's memory. He found the larger one, and looked at it apprehensively, then went back down, to find McGonagall had joined the group, deciding that it would be good if a senior member of the Order of the Phoenix were present when viewing a potentially helpful memory. Harry uncorked the bottle, and dumped the memory in. Lupin prodded the memory with his wand, and as the memory opened up for them, gestured toward Harry.

"After you, Harry." Harry let his nose touch the surface of the memory and felt the sensation of falling through nothingness, landing a few minutes later joined by Lupin, Tonks, McGonagall, Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

They were standing outside the door to Dumbledore's office. Snape was there, looking uncharacteristically worried, and though Harry swore it was a trick of the dying light, he also looked a little scared, like he was waiting for something he'd rather not witness. He rapped the griffin knocker smartly.

"Come in, Severus." Dumbledore's voice came from within. Harry felt a lump rise in his throat as he recognized his late Headmaster's soothing bass timbre. Harry and the rest of the group followed Snape inside the office. Dumbledore sat at his desk, deep in thought. He did not look up, but nevertheless gestured to the chair facing him, requesting that Snape sit down. Snape did not sit, but began shifting his weight uncomfortably, clearly wanting to pace, but he managed to hold his composure and politeness. Finally, Dumbledore looked up.

"You are not in an easy position, Severus." Dumbledore stated.

"No, I am not," Snape agreed, shifting his weight again. "Nevertheless, Draco must complete the task. I cannot interfere."

"Draco is not a killer." Dumbledore stated again.

"No he is not," Snape said, "and yet you and I both know what would happen if Draco did not complete his…er…assignment."

"That is true, Severus," Dumbledore replied, "but there is another way, and you and I both know it is the right way." Snape paled. What was coming was obviously what he feared. Dumbledore surveyed him with that stare that always made Harry feel like he were being x-rayed. Apparently Snape felt the same.

"You will have to kill me."

"NO!" Harry and Snape cried in unison.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied calmly. "Draco cannot succeed in this task alone, and he is in grave danger."

"He does not deserve this," Snape said softly. His speech took Harry completely by surprise. It was his usual soft voice, except that he was not sneering, and there was no hint of the usual malice that Harry had grown accustomed to hearing in Snape's voice. Instead, it was caring and paternal. "This is not just. If I could hide him away and protect him…" suddenly, Snape seemed embarrassed, and he looked at the floor, and when he spoke again, he was barely whispering. "…I would." Harry was bewildered, and it appeared that Dumbledore was, at least momentarily, too. Dumbledore, however, regained his composure faster than Harry.

"You love him?" Dumbledore asked, softly. Snape nodded.

"He is like a son to me…I always…" he paused again, "…wanted one." Dumbledore smiled.

"You never were a true Death Eater, Severus. I knew it from the moment you were sorted. You may not have been aware of it, but you were loved, and you can love. I am proud of you." Dumbledore's smile left and he again looked thoughtful. "And yet, I can tell that you still try to deny this. Surely you have seen that love _is _one of the most powerful forms of magic?" At this, however, Snape seemed to regain some of his old composure. He gave a derisive laugh.

"I may love and have been loved, Albus, but I have not found a single shred more evidence than the Dark Lord that love is one of the most powerful forms of magic. There _is _only power and those too weak to seek it." He sighed in a disgusted fashion. "I am weak."

"You are not weak, Severus," Dumbledore said firmly, "please think for a moment, of those who loved you. Your mother, Narcissa Malfoy, think of the ones you love, or have loved, Draco Malfoy, the aforementioned Narcissa, Lily Potter…" Harry actually tripped, falling into Tonks, who steadied him. "…How do you feel when you are around them, or in their presence?" Snape's face registered nothing but shock. Snape was clearly not expecting that.

"I feel…like nothing, not even _Avada Kedavra_...could harm me." Snape muttered, ashamed.

"You are protected in short," Dumbledore said, "by your ability to love!" Snape, however, suddenly seemed to panic.

"I can't do this, Albus! If I do feel love, I won't be able to cast _Avada Kedavra_! I won't be able to kill you, and Draco will surely die! I have to hate you! I _have to hate _you!" Dumbledore, for reasons years away from Harry's comprehending, smiled.

"You'll find a way Severus; you are cleverer than you give yourself credit for. I trust you will work it out…for Draco." Finally, Snape sat down, seeming to age years in minutes. Dumbledore leaned in to him. "I have a couple of questions for you, Severus, if you can answer." Snape nodded. Dumbledore leaned back, and though it was ridiculous because they were in a memory, Dumbledore's gaze seemed to go right to where Hermione was standing.

"What do you know of the Death Eaters' labor camps, Severus?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"More than I'd like," Snape responded, "Wormtail told me of them, or rather, it. There is only one according to Wormtail, and it's in Devonshire, it will be built to contain over 100,000 Muggles. They are going to guard it with a herd of Polynesian Blueback dragons and Skrewts." Snape looked thoroughly discomforted. "Wormtail didn't give me details, but he said that this place would breathe life into Muggles' nightmares, so I think it will be safe to assume that there will be Dementors there, and every type of device to make anyone miserable, and at least as many guards as inmates. You'd be mad to try and mount an operation against it." Dumbledore nodded, satisfied. He put his hands together, thinking, and then spoke again.

"Are you ready to become a double agent again?" Dumbledore asked Snape. Snape nodded, looking exhausted.

"Yes, but I won't be able to conceal my doings from the Dark Lord."

"Actually, you will," Dumbledore said simply. "I have devised a charm that ought to help you out there. It basically allows Voldemort access only to your thoughts about Death Eater activity. Even through Legilimency, he will not be able to read any thoughts about Malfoy, his mother, or your love." He reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. "May I?" Snape nodded, but as Dumbledore moved in to administer the charm, Harry felt like he was falling up through nothingness again, and knew he was going back.

Landing back in the living room of the Burrow, Harry couldn't say a word. He was dazed in a haze of thoughts about what he just witnessed. He looked blankly at his companions, and they stared just as blankly back. Finally, Harry regained control of his voice.

"How could this be possible?" he asked Lupin hoarsely. "I've known Snape since I first came to Hogwarts…I can't imagine someone less likely to love. He's just a slimy git."

"You say you know him, Harry," Lupin said, "but do you really _know _him? He is your teacher, and he is not required to spill out his innermost self to you."

"But he hated my dad!" Harry retorted, "And I can tell he hates me!"

"Yes, there is much bitterness between James and Severus, which does seem to have passed down to you," Lupin agreed, "but I think you will find that the memory he said was for you alone might provide some answers, as I think that package your aunt gave you may too."

"What, you know what the memory contains?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"No," Lupin replied, "but I have a hunch." He looked at a watch he was wearing. "Listen, it's late. Tonks and I need to get back home to bed, as do you, but I promise I'll be back first thing tomorrow." He grinned slightly, gave Harry's shoulder a squeeze, helped up Tonks, who had been nodding off in front of the fire, stepped outside, and apparated back to his house.

Harry, after a few moments of fire-gazing, trying to make something, anything that he had just seen make sense, followed Ginny into her room, the two of them changing into their night things. Harry helped Ginny into bed, and kissed her on the cheek.

"I'll be right back, okay?" He asked her. She nodded.

"I'll be happier if you can make it back before I fall asleep, though." She called lazily after him, grinning. Harry returned the smile, and left the room, returning a few minutes later with the package Aunt Petunia had given him.

"What's that?" Ginny asked, sleepily but curiously, propping herself up on her elbow.

"Aunt Petunia gave this to me," Harry replied, "and Lupin reckons there might be stuff in here and the other memory Snape gave me that might puzzle out what the memory we just witnessed was all about, so I wanted to see for myself." Harry opened the package and found a whole bunch of letters. Shocked, and somewhat let down, Harry reached for the first letter.

After about twenty minutes of reading, Harry wondered if he could go on. Most of the letters had been correspondence between Lily and Petunia, and each had been very emotional for Harry to read. Harry had, for so long, believed that Aunt Petunia had hated her sister, but after reading their letters, he found he was completely mistaken, and what had brought about Petunia's hatred of Wizardry was none other than Uncle Vernon. The problem was, Petunia had explained, in one of her letters that she loved Vernon, and even if it meant that she had to distance herself from Lily's world, she'd do it for Vernon. A few letters were correspondence between Lily and Snape. Snape had indeed appeared to have a crush on Lily, for his letters were written in a very mushy way, but the letters had grown a bit angrier after it seemed that Lily had confessed that she loved James more, which made Harry feel a little better. At the bottom, however, Harry's heart seemed to miss two or three beats. The letter that now was showing was from Aunt Petunia to…him. He opened it excitedly, and read.

Dear Harry,

I want you to read this, and I hope you will read it thoroughly, as I want to explain as much as possible. I know that you will soon be seventeen, and free to leave our house forever, which is more than likely if Dudley is right about that girl he was teasing you about.

The first thing I want to impress on you Harry, is to make certain you know where my stance is where your mother is concerned, and I hope that you believe me when I say that, whatever I may have shown to the contrary, I have never hated my sister. Quite the opposite in fact. I loved my sister, and will love her for as long as I live. I can still recall the early days when we used to dress up together, and play witches (this was before her Hogwarts days). I can still vividly remember playing this ridiculous game after Lily returned from her first year at Hogwarts (a girl can still play childish games with her sister when she's eleven, right?) and we would get into joyful fits if she actually managed a charm that she learned at school. If I ever appeared bitter towards you, well, I guess you remind me so much of Lily that it is painful to think about what happened to her.

I was also a little scared of the magical world, it is true. I'm the older sister, so it is natural that I would be a bit overprotective of her, going off to a school, to a world I know nothing about.

I apologize for how we've treated you, but as I've explained to Lily, I love Vernon with all my heart, and I can't bear to loose him. He may be a bully, but he makes me feel secure, safe and loved. I hope you understand this Harry, and I hope you understand that I have never wanted to condemn you to seventeen years of misery, but I couldn't risk estranging myself from my husband.

I hope in time, Harry, you can forgive us. Your Headmaster may have had a point last year, when he said we had not made you feel at home, and treated you like one of our own, but I would like to think that I've tried.

Your Aunt,

Petunia Evans

Harry was shocked that Aunt Petunia had used her maiden name on this letter, though he strongly suspected it was to remind him that she was in fact, related. Harry sighed, and put the letter away. Ginny snaked her arms around him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Come to bed, love." She said sleepily. Harry put the letter back in the box, and returned Ginny's embrace, climbing into bed with her. As he put his arms around her soft, silk nightdress, she fell almost instantly back asleep, but Harry couldn't fall asleep. He watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Ginny's back as she breathed while his head was aching from all the thinking he was doing. He half wished that he hadn't read the letters, as they only raised more questions for him, rather than answer them, as he'd hoped.

Harry awoke the next morning with Ginny, and went downstairs to get breakfast. Mrs. Weasley brought two dishes of eggs and sausages for them. He and Ginny started to eat, and were joined momentarily by Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody, Ron and Hermione.

"Good morning, Harry," Lupin said pleasantly. "Well, as you might have guessed, Alastor's made some progress in finding info on the Death Eaters' labor camp."

"And?" Harry prompted.

"There is, as Severus said in the memory we examined, only one," Lupin said, "and it is indeed in Devonshire. I say it's about time to try and mount an operation on it, you agree?"

"Yes!" It was not Harry who had responded. Hermione was looking at Lupin with a determined, forceful look that made Harry and Ron's spines tingle. Ron was looking closely at Hermione, and he noticed that her eyes, normally such a wonderful shade of deep chocolate brown had somehow turned much lighter and colder. In fact, Hermione's whole demeanor had suddenly turned much colder. No one was in any doubt as to why, but even so, both Harry and Ron were taken aback by Hermione's sudden change.

"Well, if you are sure…" Lupin began hesitantly, clearly as taken aback by Hermione as Harry and Ron were.

"Of course I'm sure!" Hermione said.

"And you two…?" Lupin asked, looking at Harry and Ron.

"Well, I guess we're about as ready now as we'll ever be." Harry said.

"Then we need to get to the Ministry." Lupin said.

"The Ministry?" Ron asked, shocked. Lupin nodded.

"The war has started, Ron. Naturally, every person who is willing to fight will be, but the Order of the Phoenix is not the controlling force here. Such a war would ordinarily be a job for the Aurors, but this war is different. Every person who can fight…well, they must. This is a true civil war in every possible literary interpretation of the word. Moreover, we need a big army, just as Harry had said on his inaugural night, and the Ministry agrees. We will be fighting, however, much in the style that Muggle wars are fought, and that includes having a main base of operations, in this case, the Ministry. We have divided all of Britain and Ireland into 455 sectors of command, and there will be a hierarchy of command as well. Our briefing, then, naturally, will be at the Ministry." Ron nodded. He had gone stark white, but looked determined. His jaw was set and his eyes shone extra bright. Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, and was filled with admiration for his friends' determination to fight for justice.

"I'm not ready for this." Mrs. Weasley was whiter than Ron, and her voice shook, tears forming in her eyes. "I'm not ready to send Ron, Harry and the others into battle…please don't make them leave, Remus, please, please, _please_! He's my youngest boy, Remus, I won't let him go. Ginny…my Ginny out to the front…my own little girl…I couldn't…" Her voice trailed off to be replaced by a sob. Both Mr. Weasley and Lupin went over to comfort her, rubbing her back and shoulders as she sobbed.

"Molly, it is wartime. I'm afraid that is just the nature of war. Anyone and everyone who is willing to fight must." Lupin said softly. "I am not Sirius, so I am not Harry's godfather, but I still don't want him to fight any more than you want Ron to fight, but he must. We all must, even you, Molly. We just don't have any other option."

"Ginny's not even of age!" Mrs. Weasley sobbed. "She's just a baby. Please don't put my baby in danger!" It was a mark of the seriousness of the situation that Ginny did not object to being called a 'baby'.

"Molly," Harry said almost inaudibly, causing Mrs. Weasley to start; Harry had never addressed her by her first name before, "You surely know how much I love Ginny. I would do anything for her, even…" he choked a bit "…die for her. I know, too, that either you or Arthur would do the same for her or any of the others, and I believe that such love will be the most protection we can offer each other. As I recall, Dumbledore said in his tribute to Cedric…" he choked again on the lump forming in his throat "…at the end of the Triwizard Tournament last year about how we are only as strong as we are together, weak as we are divided. We must stay together, we must."

"Arthur…" Mrs. Weasley said quietly, looking imploringly at her husband. He did not immediately reply, but merely knelt down beside her, and cuddled and kissed her; the first time Harry had seen him do so in public.

"I know you're scared, Molly," he whispered as he kissed her ear, "I am, too, and I don't want Ron or Ginny to fight, either. Nor do I want Bill, Charlie, Fred, George or even Fleur to fight, come to that, but Harry and Remus are right, Molly. We have no choice; none whatsoever and we are only strong together proving our love for each other." Mrs. Weasley, unable to speak, threw herself upon Mr. Weasley and Harry, sobbing into the combined shoulders of the two men, joined by Ginny who was sobbing into Harry's free shoulder. Harry himself tightly hugged Ginny, Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley, wishing he could grow a few more arms to embrace Hermione, Ron and Lupin, feeling like he was at least ten years older than he actually was, and wondered if wars always did this to people such a fashion.

It took a few minutes for Mrs. Weasley to calm down, but when she did, and Lupin uncertainly asked if everyone was ready to go to the Ministry, everyone nodded, including Mrs. Weasley.

The group had apparated into what looked like a conference room in the Ministry. There was a long meeting table with over twenty chairs on every side that were nicely plush leather, but still formal. Standing ominously in the center was some sort of projector. It reminded Harry of some pictures he'd seen of the company board room for his Uncle Vernon's drill making company, Grunnings. There were at least twice as may people as there were chairs who were milling about, waiting. It seemed like every member of the Auror office was there and then some.

"I didn't know there were this many Aurors serving the Ministry." Harry said, surveying the crowd.

"Oh, these aren't just Aurors, Harry," Lupin explained, "We've got everyone from the Ministry who are willing to fight involved. We have several platoons made up of as many soldiers as we can spare. The Order and the DA members make up one of the Platoons, and we'll be the ones primarily in charge of liberating the labor camp, though Calvin Harris-Coolidge's group will be joining us."

"Oh." Harry said.

"I hope the meeting starts soon," Lupin said, "Our platoon still doesn't have a Captain or a second in command. We'll have to nominate a couple of people." Harry nodded, his nerves suddenly jingling.

"Ah, Remus, you are here. Excellent, excellent, we've been waiting on you, are you ready to start?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked. Lupin nodded.

"We are." He said.

"Excellent!" Shacklebolt said. He moved toward the table and cleared his throat.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, as secretary for the Wartime Alliance of British Wizards, I present, Admiral Alastor Moody!" Shacklebolt called out. Everyone applauded as Moody approached the head of the table, his scarred face furrowed in concentration.

"Good evening, WABW. Captain Shacklebolt, may we have the minutes of the meeting, please?" Shacklebolt read out the prepared minutes. There were only two items on the agenda. The selection of the Captain and First Officer for the Order of the Phoenix platoon, or as it was known in code, PLAT-O, and the briefing for PLAT-O's mission, the only platoon not active at the moment.

"The election is simple," Admiral Moody began, "a member of your platoon must make a nomination. Anyone is free to nominate, and a nominee is free to decline, however, if they do so, they must either nominate someone themselves, or suggest an alternate idea. The votes may only be cast by members of your respective platoon. Who would like the first nomination?" Tonks raised her hand. "Mrs. Lupin?" For a moment, Harry wondered who moody was talking to, but then he remembered Tonks had married Lupin.

"I nominate Harry Potter." Tonks said.

"Mr. Potter?" Moody queried. Harry shook his head slightly.

"I decline my nomination," Harry said. "I nominate Ron Weasley in my place, and agree to stay on as second in command, though, if you like." Mr. Weasley was looking at Harry as though he were mad, and Mrs. Weasley seemed ready to faint. Even Ginny seemed a bit scared by Harry's words.

"Why me?" Ron asked Harry, forgetting he was in a formal meeting, and staring at Harry in frank bewilderment.

"Because you're a much better tactician than I am," Harry said. "You'll be a far more resourceful Captain."

"I would not," Ron said before he could stop himself. "You were the one who successfully held you-know-who at bay for all those years."

"This isn't about who defeated whom," Harry said bracingly, "if I hadn't had you and Hermione as friends, and by my side all those times, why it is very likely that Voldemort would have come back three years sooner than he did. And besides," he added, grinning slightly, "when have Hermione or I beat you at chess?" Ron grinned, and turned to face Moody.

"I accept my nomination, and nominate Harry Potter as my First Officer."

"I accept my nomination," Harry said. After the vote was run, Ron was elected Captain and Harry First Officer by a near majority vote. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Hermione and Ginny all had abstained from the voting.

"So," Shacklebolt said, "that leaves the briefing. Admiral, if you will." Moody withdrew his wand and pointed it at the projector. The lights dimmed, and a map of what was unmistakably Devonshire appeared, showing where the Death Eaters' labor camp was.

"The mission you are about to undertake, PLAT-O is very simple. We are sending you to Devonshire in an attempt to liberate the Death Eaters' labor camp, Atrox Domus. We have done extensive reconnaissance and we have set up two camps that should be well hidden, where you and PLAT-CHC will be staying until the completion of the mission. PLAT-O will be to the north, while PLAT-CHC will be stationed down south, where those under Captain Harris-Coolidge will be available as backup." Moody tapped at the screen with his wand, and the map that showed the two platoons' campsites in relation to the labor camp, and the image zoomed out to reveal another camp location hidden within the town of Devonshire, nested behind a Muggle pub.

"Once you have liberated the camps, the Muggles will need to be brought to this hospital for care. You will apparate into Devonshire at 10:30 tonight. Any questions?" No one raised their hands. "Good luck, then, platoons!" Moody said encouragingly. Shacklebolt called the meeting to a close, and Moody insisted that Ron and Harry meet Calvin Harris-Coolidge and his second in command, William "Jack" Aubrey IV.

Harris-Coolidge was very much like a cross between Moody and Minister Scrimgeour. He had a mane of very shaggy hair that was a very light brown, and looked like a lion's mane, and his eyes were hard and a very light blue, radiating power, determination and resourcefulness, as well as a smattering of scars, while William Aubrey was young, round faced and buoyant. He gave an impression of great energy and humor, and his hair was almost as black as Harry's, while his eyes were a twinkling grey-blue in color.

"Congratulations on your promotion, Captain," Harris-Coolidge said, shaking Ron's hand. "We have some task ahead, eh?" Ron merely nodded, not caring for Harris-Coolidge's calm, unconcerned manner. Aubrey was jabbering to Harry about his thoughts on tactics as how to rescue the poor Muggles. Harry tried to listen, but he wasn't particularly interested. Tactics did not matter to him, he simply wanted to get those poor Muggles free. He was thankful when Harris-Coolidge called out,

"Come on, Aubrey old chap, we gotta address the platoon before we apparate." Aubrey nodded, and followed Harris-Coolidge out. Harry turned to Ron.

"I suppose we'd better get going ourselves and get ready." Ron nodded, and walked toward the door. He caught up with Hermione, and pulled her into a gentle hug.

"We're going to get your parents back, Mione, you're going to see them again, I promise." He whispered, kissing her head. She did not respond, but snuggled into Ron's comforting, warm embrace, silently praying that she would not have to wait much longer.

11


	11. Chapter 11: Rescuing the Grangers

ELEVEN: Rescuing the Grangers

It was ten at night when PLAT-O apparated into their "campsite" in Devonshire. They were put on a hill overlooking the labor camp, and had been fortified with every possible Dark-deflecting spell known to wizardkind. The labor camp itself was nestled in the middle of a deserted moor, though it looked like it was made at least in part by the Death Eaters, as the moors around Devonshire tended to be a lot smaller than this one. The camp had many magical lights that all gave off a very eerie, spine tingling green-white color, and was fortified by many various guard posts, and the sounds of the roars of the Polynesian Blueback dragons could be heard.

"Eerie. Really, really eerie." Ron whispered, looking at the camp. Beside him, Hermione stiffened up as her eyes took in what she could see from a distance.

"Any orders, Captain?" Harry asked, breaking the ominous, uncomfortable silence that had suddenly engulfed the whole group. Ron looked startled, for he had momentarily forgotten he was Captain.

"Well…" Ron began uncertainly, "…I think, at this point, the best we can do is get oriented for the time being, so we should start by getting dinner out of the way, then I suggest we should take watches, and observe the camp. I'll take the 9-10 watch, and then Harry can take the 11-12 watch, and then, perhaps Remus, and so on, but the very first thing is to unpack. I daresay we'll be here a couple of days at least. If Snape is right, we'll need a good plan to mount a successful operation." So everyone made their way into the tents to unpack.

The tents were not unlike the ones that Harry and the Weasleys had borrowed for the Quidditch World Cup three years ago, except that, while magically enlarged to fit a whole platoon, the Ministry-issued tents were not at all lavish. A small stove stood in the middle of walls of bare canvas, and the bunks were all just a little smaller than the standard single bed and were vary sparse, and had limited comfort. A soldier's trunk stood at the foot of each bed waiting to be magically emblazoned with its owner's name. The largest room was a sort of meeting room just behind and to the left of the stove, where there was a table, a map of Devonshire with the various mission waypoints outlined and a first aid kit. Outside was a very small fireplace with a standard issue kettle.

Dinner was an affair none would forget. Subdued dinners were nothing out of the ordinary in times of war, but this was a dinner that had gone beyond subdued. No one even seemed to want to make the sound of their chewing heard as they ate their way through standard Auror rations: Beans, dried and smoked fish and/or pork, cornbread, a little powdered milk and coffee. When everyone was done, Ron asked for everyone's attention.

"Right, here's what we're going to do," he said, "we are going to record any significant observations in this log, and observe the labor camp through these." He pointed to a little notebook, and what looked like Omnioculars. "That's it," he finished, "Any questions? No? Alright, off to bed with you. Harry, I'll wake you in an hour, okay?" Harry nodded, and followed the others in for a bit of rest. Ron, however, sat down on the ground, poured himself another cup of coffee and began his watch.

It was a beautiful evening. There was a cloudless sky filled to bursting with stars, and the temperature was nicely moderate. Ron stared at the camp through the Omnioculars, wishing he could find something that might help him determine how in the world they would be able to mount an operation against it. He had seen the outlines of what appeared to be the dragons and Skrewts that Snape had mentioned in his memory, and what appeared to be Death Eater sentries patrolling the camp in catwalks in the tops of the twenty foot high walls that surrounded the camp. Fences of what was unmistakably barbed wire encompassed the walls. As Ron watched the camp, his mind wandered to the Muggles that were now undoubtedly sleeping in conditions he did not dare try to imagine. He tried hard to not think about Hermione's parents either.

Ron had expected them to be wary, perhaps hating of him because he was a wizard, and he had feared that the two, especially Mr. Granger, would not approve of Hermione's choice of boyfriend. Both of Hermione's parents had liked Ron very much, however, and though they were initially wary of him, it was because they didn't want Hermione out of their life, not because he was born into a magical family. In fact, Ron thought, for how the parents of a Muggle-born witch or wizard usually treat their children, Mrs. and Mr. Granger were very supportive and understanding of having a witch daughter. They had both emphatically stated that they would always love their daughter, no matter what she was.

As Ron thought about Hermione's parents, he started thinking of Hermione herself. God, how he loved her. Had he told her that? Sweet Merlin, did she even know how he felt about her? She was the perfect woman for him, he knew that, and he was certain he must have told her he loved her…so why was he doubting himself? Ron sighed, sipping at his coffee. Realizing it was cold, he performed a reheating charm as Hermione came into his mind again. God, what a body she had! All her curves were in exactly the right spots; her eyes…by Merlin, there were no eyes as beautiful as hers…and her perfect breasts, her wonderful tight…_snap out of it, Ron!!_ He chided himself in his head, _you're a platoon captain!! You can't go thinking these things now!! Get a ruddy grip!!_ He may have even had a chance to recover from his lewd thoughts if he hadn't turned absentmindedly to the tent and find himself looking at the real thing.

"Hermione!" Ron said in a shocked whisper, "what're you doing? You ought to be in bed." She approached him in a nightdress that was not easing Ron's thoughts. It was wonderful. It had a perfect mix of girlishness and womanly texturing so that she looked at once like a noble, wizened, matriarchal lady while still retaining her young girlish appeal and sexiness. She snuggled into Ron's lap.

"I…I…couldn't sleep," Hermione said shiftily, "I was…er…I had a nightmare about…about…"

"Your parents?" Hermione nodded.

"Yes. Oh, Ron, I'm just so afraid something awful has happened." She said miserably. Ron held her closer, trying his best to comfort her.

In the days following Nick Creek's death, Alasdair Granger had become very lonely and his own will to live was slowly ebbing away. Having Nick in the same camp had been something like a helping hand for Alasdair. It seemed that a combination of letting his love for Hermione keep him from getting down and imagining being back to life before his capture, in "the good old days" where he and Sarah Granger would alternate with Nick and Mariah Creek with who would invite the other over to dinner, or whether Nick and Mariah would baby-sit Hermione, or whether they would baby-sit Emma, while the other couple enjoyed a night to themselves. He had so longed for life to return to normal, but now that Mariah and Nick had died, and Emma had been "kissed" by a Dementor, and he had no idea what had become of Mark Creek. Because of all the additional grief that had overcome him, and the fact that he could only see his wife (and he could by no means do any more than glance quickly at her) was at mealtimes, as the barracks and meal tables were segregated by gender, Alasdair Granger was seriously wondering if he could make it through this nightmare alive. He was starting to wonder if even his love for Hermione would be enough to keep him going now. He frequently found himself wishing, at all times of the day, either sleep or death to overcome him, both being the only places where he could find any solace. At this point, death was even more preferable to sleep, since the presence of the Dementors was enough to cause constant nightmares for all the camp's inmates.

For this reason, Alasdair was delighted and shocked to the bones to have gone to bed one night, giving Nick Creek's old, empty bed a sad glance, and then woken up the next morning to find the same bed occupied by none other than his five year older brother Richard, and the bunk above him occupied by Richard's son and Hermione's twenty-four year old cousin, David.

Richard lived in Aberdeen, Scotland with his wife, Michelle "Shelly" McKinney and David, where he worked for his father-in-law's law firm. As children, in the wake of their parents' deaths, Richard and Alasdair had been very close, but they had drifted apart when Richard had moved to Scotland and buried himself in learning the legal system. Neither brother had been really involved in the other's life after that. They spoke occasionally on the phone, but little more than that. They made the effort to come to big events of their families, like David and Hermione's respective births, but otherwise lived relatively separate lives, to the consternation of David and Hermione, who wanted to be close, and hang out like cousins were supposed to. In those days, Alasdair hadn't felt a need to remain very close to his brother; the phone conversations were just fine by him. Now, however, Alasdair felt like all that mattered was to have his brother back by his side. As the rest of the male inmates slowly fell asleep, David, Alasdair and Richard spent the better part of an hour catching up, their voices a whisper's whisper. It went relatively well until Alasdair asked about his sister-in-law.

"How's Shelly?" he asked generally. Richard's whole attitude changed at the drop of a hat. He no longer looked interested in hearing about his brother's life, nor warm and caring. He suddenly became guarded, cold and hurt.

"She _died _three years ago. And you! You never even bothered coming to her funeral!! Neither you, nor your lazy wife could be bothered to support your brother and nephew!!" Richard had to fight to keep his voice a whisper. Alasdair's brotherly instincts kicked in and he made to retort before he really took in what Richard was saying.

"Don't you dare talk about Sarah like that!" Alasdair said, bristling. He missed his wife so much he felt like he was going back to his high school days where he had attempted to win her affections by standing up to those who bullied her. "_You_," Alasdair said, staring furiously at Richard, "never came to the party Sarah and I threw for Hermione when she was accepted to Hogwarts did you?!" Richard opened his mouth to retort back, but David cut in.

"Guys, stop, will you?! If you ask me, this cat fighting is just what our captors want. We must try to stay calm." He said. Alasdair stopped, looked at his nephew, and felt his jaw drop with terror. Hermione had said that _love _would be what got them through this awful war, and here he was, fighting with the very people that he should be loving. If he kept this up, why the Death Eaters might as well cremate him tomorrow. Alasdair hastily, but sincerely apologized to Richard, asking his forgiveness, as Richard did the same back to him. David smiled.

"And now," he said, "I think we ought to sleep." It didn't take long for Alasdair to start snoring.

In the following days, Alasdair hardly remembered that he and his brother had spent their first day back together in many years, arguing. Having Richard back by his side had been exactly what Alasdair had needed in the wake of Nick Creek's death. He felt his will to live slowly return to him as he now had his brother and nephew beside him. It was wonderful, or at least it started out that way.

Alasdair had been fighting a sort of long-lasting fever for the last few weeks that seemed to come and go, in terms of how strong he was, and he was beginning to loose productivity. Even if Richard now whispered jokes to Alasdair as they labored together down in the mines, Alasdair was slowly becoming seriously sick, and was now sure that he would die of illness before he could even see Hermione again. These days, it was not unusual for him to cry himself to sleep, Richard holding his hands and whispering prayers and words of comfort in his ear.

The worst day, however, was to be the one that brought on this night of intense suffering for all who bore the surname 'Granger'. Like every other day, there was the usual pitiful breakfast, and the calling of unlucky souls who were to go see the camp doctors.

"ZXM1412!" Eli Schwartz called. Trembling from head to foot, though not as much as his father, David Granger got up and followed Schwartz out of the mess hall. Meanwhile, Alasdair, Sarah and Richard were all assigned to the team of diggers. As they dug away, the Death Eaters once again shoved a pile of bodies into the pit with orders to have the bodies buried. It was like Mariah Creek's death all over again when Sarah turned over a dead body, to see David Granger's still young, handsome and healthy, yet irreversibly dead face. In an instant, both Alasdair and Sarah fainted. Richard, on the other hand, was trying his hardest to find anything which might mean that this young man was not his son. Unconscious, neither Sarah nor Alasdair heard Richard's howls of misery that meant he had finally accepted the inevitable. His son, the last of the family he had created with Shelly, was dead. He wondered if he could stop sobbing.

It was the final straw for Richard. He had gone to bed long before curfew, and was so deep in depression that neither he nor Alasdair knew if he would ever feel good again.

"That's it," Richard groaned, "I'm finished. I don't care anymore. I wanna die. I hate my life, everything that was important to me is gone."

"No, brother!" Alasdair said, his voice soft and weak but determined, "we must remember to love. Hermione always said that would be what would save us. Love."

"She said that, huh?" Richard said icily, "well, what am I supposed to love now, eh?" Alasdair ignored him.

"Something good'll happen. I can feel it." Richard snorted.

"How poetic." He muttered indignantly and sarcastically.

Hermione had finally fallen asleep in Ron's lap as Ron's watch came to an end. Gently he picked her up and carried her back to the tent, lay her down on her bed, covered her with her blankets and went to wake Harry. He awoke Harry with a little trepidation, for the first thing he noticed as he approached Harry's bed was a sea of long red hair across Harry's chest. Ginny was obviously asleep on Harry's chest. It was a rather cute picture, but though he knew he'd just have to get used to it, Ron couldn't help but feel uncomfortable seeing his best mate snuggling his sister.

"Harry, mate, it's your watch." Ron said into Harry's ear. Harry groaned, rubbing his eyes and sitting up slowly.

"Harry…what is it?" Ginny said sleepily, but with an edge of panic in her voice.

"Shhh, Gin, it's my watch," Harry whispered, "go back to sleep." Harry got out of bed and put on a pair of jeans and a coat over his pajamas. He lay Ginny back down in his bed, covering her with the blankets and kissed her forehead.

The starry sky was very welcoming to Harry. As he sat there with the Omnioculars and the notebook, he tried to evoke the memory he had caught a glimpse of when he had performed the Fiducia charm with Lupin, but he let the memory vary. The first time around, he was a baby being snuggled by his parents, but in the second version, he was the father, and a little baby with messy red hair was snuggled between him and Ginny. He grinned at the memory, and pressed the Omnioculars to his nose, preparing to observe the camp.

For the first half hour, Harry could not see anything out of the ordinary; or at least, he had not made an observation that had not differed from the observations that Ron had felt most worthy of writing down. Being seeker, on a Quidditch team had given Harry a few skills that Ron lacked. A sense of timing, patience and a heightened sense of visual awareness, spotting things that others often took for granted. In fact, the only time this skill didn't serve Harry was in a chess match against Ron. However, Harry quickly saw something that made his heart leap.

If you imagine to be at PLAT-O's campsite, looking, as Harry was, at the northern side of the labor camp, and you were to hold up your hands, the entrance to the camp would be where your left hand is, and the rear to your right. Scanning the end of the camp, two things caught Harry's eye. At first sight, the barbed wire that surrounded the camp appeared to circumnavigate the entire structure, but Harry quickly spotted an area that was half hidden behind a boulder where there was no barbed wire. Harry had also noticed an odd behavior in the Blast-ended Skrewts that patrolled the outside perimeters of the camp. The Skrewts Harry and the rest of the Care of magical Creatures class in Harry's fourth year had helped Hagrid raise as a class project had minds of their own, and seemed to be uncontrollable by humans, but the Skrewts that guarded the labor camp only patrolled certain parts of the perimeter, and moved surprisingly like their human counterparts on the catwalks above, and there were no Skrewts near that bit of wall.

The final thing that struck Harry as ominous was that the wall where there was no barbed wire or Skrewts, seemed to almost look darker and weaker than the rest of the structure. Harry's heart beat a little faster. He had examined the front of the labor camp and compared his observations with Ron's notes and concluded that, as Snape had said in his memory, they would indeed be mad to try and mount an assault on the front end, but if he was right about this back end, and it was weaker…it seemed so possible if the end was weaker than the rest of the structure…and if the Death Eaters didn't know about it…Harry hastened to write down his observations, and, as his watch was over, went back into the tent to wake Lupin, his heart and adrenaline pumping.

Lupin's watch had produced nothing new after Harry and Ron, and by the next morning, no one doubted that the weak spot Harry had found was probably their only option for a campaign against the labor camp. As Captain, Ron was in charge, and it turned out that Harry had made the right move, nominating Ron, for it was obvious to all, as they ate their breakfast of rations, that for someone who had only just came of age, Ron really knew tactics.

"Okay, guys, we can't do this in the dead of night, though I wish we could, because that would give us an additional element of surprise, however, I think we ought to assume that the Muggles will be extremely weak, so our best chance of being able to move them to safety will be while they are already awake.

"Now, if Harry is right, and the Death Eaters do not know about the weak area, we will still have an element of surprise working in our favor, so that ought to be good. We need to communicate with Captain Harris-Coolidge's group and have them with us, because we will send in soldiers in waves, and we'll need the combined numbers of both platoons for success.

"We'll stagger the waves by three minutes apiece. The first wave will destabilize the Death Eater sentries, and when the second wave goes in, they will go to the mines and various other places to get the Muggles to safety and remove any Death Eater threat from them. The third wave will work to remove the threat of the dragons and Skrewts. Hagrid should be able to be effective as a frontman for that group." Hagrid grinned, excitedly. Rom, however, noticed him.

"Show them no mercy, Hagrid," Ron advised sternly, "our primary objective is to rescue those poor Muggles and anything that hinders that objective must go.

"Now," Ron continued, "after the first three waves, we'll send in any remaining soldiers as fourth and fifth waves, whose job will be to mainly keep the Muggles safe until the danger is passed, in any way you see fit. We should try and make this as clean and quick an operation as we can. Questions?" No one raised their hands. Ron looked determinedly at them.

"Right, let's go." The group crept over the boulder that extended from their campsite to the labor camp, which was enough to effectively mask their approach. Ron whispered his instructions to Harris-Coolidge as they made their way to the wall. They were joined a few moments later by Harris-Coolidge, Aubrey and the other members of PLAT-CHC. Ron spent the next few minutes dividing everyone into waves. Calvin Harris-Coolidge agreed to lend most of his men as the first and second waves.

"Okay," Ron said tensely, "wave number one, on my count, three…two…one…go!" The men that made up wave 1 approached the wall.

"_BOMBARDA_!!" They roared in unison. The blasting spell, as many times stronger as there were members of the first wave, worked. Harry had been right to think that this part of the wall was much weaker, and it crumbled easily, however, he was wrong to think that the area was unguarded. After the wall fell, fifteen Dementors made for the first wave. Harry watched, impressed, as the first wave, keeping their cool, produced many silver Patronuses that caused the Dementors to retreat, and the first wave charged into the labor camp. Ron watched his watch intently, preparing to send in the second wave.

Two hours in, all the waves had been sent in, and the result was something. Mrs. Weasley and Tonks had been heading the efforts to heard the Muggles out of harm's way, while everyone else battled away. It was not easy work. Most of the Death Eaters had been effectively taken by surprise, but were quick to catch on to what was happening.

Hermione was battling a lone sentry, her eyes all the time surveying the camp for signs of her parents, not noticing another sentry approaching her. A man from Harris-Coolidge's group jumped in front of her, taking the _Avada Kedavra _curse intended for her. As the man fell, she uttered a scream of rage that didn't sound like her, and brought both Death Eaters down. A few yards away, Harry and Ron were also battling Death Eaters, their faces shining with perspiration.

Hagrid was doing an excellent job taking care of the dragons and Skrewts, at the cost of several burns and injuries. His face showed every desire to not harm the dragons, as he loved dragons, but he remained faithful to Ron's words, and within a few minutes, Hagrid had all but killed all the dragons and Skrewts, but he had many open and bleeding wounds.

Though for once, the Ministry platoons outnumbered the Death Eaters, they were not going out without effort, and they had launched a few gas bombs at the various people, hoping to scare them into retreating, but both Captains remained faithful to their mission, even though both sides had plenty of casualties and injuries. The battle was so fast and furious that within minutes, there was almost nothing to see except dust.

Another hour later, the dust had finally cleared. Ron, who was sporting a bloody arm, looked around. It had ended. Aubrey had found, and destroyed, the main command center for the camp, and after that, and the fact they had lost so much more, the Death Eaters surrendered. Harris-Coolidge had sent green sparks into the air to show that they had been victorious. The labor camp lay in a shambles. None of the buildings remained standing, and the entrance to the mine had caved in. In a last ditch effort, the Death Eaters had rounded up every remaining Muggle they could find and had killed them in any method that came into their head. Nevertheless, the battle had come and gone, and the Muggles were slowly leaving the camp in a long line to the secret hospital where they would be tended.

Ron stood by the camp gates with Hermione, watching for her parents with her, Hermione looking beside herself with fright and worry, as weary, sick Muggle after weary, sick Muggle passed them. Ron held Hermione steady, as she was starting to look like she might faint. Suddenly, Hermione spotted a trio of especially careworn looking Muggles, gasped, and then let out a scream.

"MUM!!" Hermione broke free of Ron and hurled herself at her mother, tears nearly blinding her as they flew down her face. Neither Hermione nor Sarah Granger cared that Hermione was still healthy and strong, whereas Sarah Granger was weak and sick from a quarter of a month in that hellhole, as Hermione flung herself onto her mother, knocking her on her back, sobbing. Once Sarah Granger realized that she was in fact looking at her daughter, she too broke out sobbing, hugging and kissing Hermione in every place she could reach. She knew she was being inappropriate, but she didn't care. All that mattered was that she keep Hermione in her arms. Hermione, on the other hand, couldn't kiss her mother. She merely hugged her as hard as she could, sobbing and nuzzling her head into the breasts that had nourished her. Alasdair Granger, however, was much sicker than his wife, and now so overwhelmed that he could only sit down on the ground, sobbing as he'd never sobbed before. Relief, joy, sadness and all the love for his wife and child cascaded through his weak body in spasms, as his emotions engulfed him. It was the perfect day. He had the two things that were most important to him back within his grasp, and he allowed himself a smile as Ron and Richard Granger came forward to embrace him.

9


	12. Chapter 12: A Cold November

TWELVE: A Cold November

The hospital that had been made up to treat the Muggles from the camp was the first Muggle-Wizard collaboration, for both Minister Scrimgeour and the Muggle Prime Minister William H. Massey, with whom Minister Scrimgeour had been in contact with about the war, had both agreed that most of the Muggles would feel safer healed by their own ways. Scrimgeour, however, was adamant that St. Mungo's would provide a small team of Healers, as they did not know if the Death Eaters had, or had not, used magic on the Muggles that could not be cured by Muggle doctors. Massey, unlike any of his predecessors as Prime Minister, had been trusting and accepting of Rufus Scrimgeour and the fact that he was a wizard, and agreed readily to Scrimgeour's propositions. This had turned out to be the right move on the two Ministers' parts, and the hospital had become both very full and very successful. The two worlds' medical philosophies worked together with surprising harmony and grace, both sides trusting each other easier than anyone from either side would have thought possible.

Hermione was now spending most of her time at the hospital with her parents. Both she and her mother had fallen asleep as Mr. Weasley conjured up a stretcher for them and brought them to the hospital, Hermione's head still snuggled as close to in between her mother's breasts as possible, and had ended up spending the night in her mother's embrace which felt wonderful for both women, feeling happier for each others' comfort and embrace.

Sarah Granger had made an excellent recovery by what the doctors were guessing. They had not expected her to gain her energy back so quick due to severe malnutrition and dehydration, yet after one day of three hearty and perfectly square meals, she was looking much better, and was much happier, sitting up, and talking herself blue to Hermione, which many suspected was part of why she was healing so well, as she retold all the horrors she had experienced to her daughter, and by her second day was back to joking around and starting to wonder when she'd be released. Alasdair Granger, however, was not making a speedy recovery. His fever had flared when the doctors had put him under various antibiotics to try and help him recover. It was a cute, but very sad, sight to see Hermione patiently and lovingly spoon-feeding her father what looked an awful lot like baby food. Richard Granger was not healing all that well either, but the doctors had said that he was not nearly as sick as anyone else, having only been in the camp three days, but he was still not eating, due to the fact that his grief for David was still very prominent in his mind.

Finally, after three days of care, even Richard Granger was eating again, and seemed to have started down the road of letting go, though he had said that David's face, as he had followed Schwartz out of the mess hall, would never leave him. Alasdair Granger, however, had the doctors flummoxed. He had come around to the point that they were ready to try putting him back on solid foods. After attempting to eat, however, Alasdair's fever, which he had been fighting on and off since his rescue, flared once again, and he didn't seem to be able to hold anything, not even the baby food Hermione had been feeding him, down now. He was quickly loosing weight and becoming progressively weaker. Finally, he called upon a nurse.

"Will you do me a favor?" He asked her softly, talking taking most of his energy. She nodded.

"What is it?" she asked him gently.

"I want to dictate to you some letters I want to write, as I am too weak to do so myself…" She nodded, understanding at once what was going on, and pulling out a pen and pad of paper. Several patients had already dictated letters to her that day. After she left, Alasdair felt that he was ready to say what he had to.

The next day, Ron and Hermione came to visit Hermione's parents and uncle. Hermione went to spend time alone with her mother, while Ron decided to check in on Alasdair. He approached the door and knocked.

"Come in." Alasdair's weak voice called softly. Upon seeing who it was, he smiled. "Just the man I wanted to see." He said in a voice that echoed utter and complete exhaustion. Ron looked at Alasdair, feeling that something was seriously out of order.

"I…er…" Ron began uneasily, not sure he wanted to hear what Alasdair had to say.

"Come here, Ron," Alasdair said gently, "I have something I want to share with you." He took a deep breath. "Ron, I'm dying. I doubt I am going to be here much longer. I want you, and I trust you, to tell Sarah, Dick, and my baby what is happening. I've written them letters to help explain all this." Ron's eyes had misted over, and he fought to keep his breath and voice steady.

"You're dying?" Ron asked, not daring to believe it.

"Yes," Alasdair said, still smiling, "my time at Atrox Domus has weakened me, and made me suffer unbearably. Trust me, I will be happier for this, I only wish I wasn't leaving Sarah, my baby, and…you. Ron, I want you to know that I love you. I can see in an instant why my baby fell for you. I am sorry that we can't have the chance to get to know each other the way we should." Ron couldn't stop the tears now.

"How do you want me to tell the others?" he asked shakily.

"You won't really have to, Ron," Alasdair said, "you see, I had two requests to make of you, and the first one was that you have all of my family beside me tomorrow, by which time I may, or may not, already be dead, and have them read these," he pointed to the letters he had given Ron, "and that should do most of the explanations. I have asked the nurses not to move my body regardless of my…er…status, so that Sarah, Dick and Hermione may say goodbye."

"What's your other request?" Ron asked, feeling ready to break down sobbing.

"Well, it's actually more of a request," Alasdair said, his grin broadening and tears forming in his own eyes, "marry my baby; marry Hermione, Ron, and love her as much as you can. Trust me when I say that a father knows when his child is in love, and I know Hermione loves you with all her heart, and I couldn't be more happy, or proud, to have you as a son-in-law. I'm just sorry I won't be able to walk Hermione down the aisle." At this, Ron did break out sobbing, and hugged Alasdair Granger, promising on his own life that he would marry and love Hermione.

The next day, everything had gone relatively smooth. Ron had presented Hermione, Sarah and Richard with their letters, but couldn't say what was in them. He only gave them Alasdair's instructions to him that concerned them, unable to face what was going to happen. Sarah had a good idea though, what it was all about. The group had gathered around Alasdair, who was alive, but only just barely hanging on. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow. Everyone read his letters, Ron reading over Hermione's shoulders.

My Dear Sweet baby girl Hermione,

I am writing this letter to you to tell you that I am dying. I may already be dead when you read this, but I want you to know that I love you, and will always love you, and we will never be truly parted. I don't want you to be sad, baby, because I will at last be able to escape from the pain that has become permanently etched into me, and I will be happier for it.

I remember the day you were born. You were the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me, and it was one of the few days that I have ever cried in earnest. I knew from the moment you took your first breath that you would be something, someone infinitely special to me, but I was also afraid. I feared I might not be a good father, and that I couldn't, or wouldn't be able to give you the love you so deserved. You have been infinitely special to me, and I have tried my hardest to give you that love. I remember how you learned how to walk and talk so early, but I could never understand why your first word just happened to be 'cauldron', although you made it sound like 'cawdron' and you would point excitedly to the tea kettle. You were always hard to discipline, too! I can recall how just one look at your eyes and smile, and I wouldn't be able to effectively scold you for any wrongdoing. The way you would say "me sowwy daddy, me weally sowwy". At those times, all I wanted to do was hug you and laugh.

I remember, too, how at times, when you showed your prowess at magic when you were young, but none of us knew what was going on, how we all seemed to be in a tough spot for awhile, and I think, and fear that sometimes you thought we didn't love you because you were a witch. I want you to understand with all certainty that I _do _love you, no matter who you've become, and even separated, will always look down on you and love you.

I want you to know how much you mean to me, and how much I want you to be happy. I give you my approval on your boyfriend, too, sweetheart. Ron is a good man and will be able to take good care of you, and I hope you two will be happy together.

Lastly, I remember you once told your mother and me that your Headmaster had once told you that 'to the well organized mind, death is the next great adventure'. I'm ready for my next adventure, baby, and I want you to know that I don't fear death, I just wish I could have been around to see my grandkids. Make sure to give them an especially sloppy kiss for me, as that is what I did when you were born.

I'm sorry that I couldn't have been here for you longer, but please remember that, as imperfect as I may have been, you are my only child, and my one true love. You are my baby girl and I will never forget you.

I love you so much, even in death,

Your Father.

"Oh daddy!" Hermione whispered, staring at her thin, fragile father. She climbed into bed with him and wrapped her arms around him. As he very weakly returned her embrace, she started sobbing, hugging him harder.

"You were perfect, daddy, you were!" Hermione wailed, "I love you daddy, I love you so much, and I'll never forget you either!"

"I'm sorry, Al, I'm sorry, brother!" Richard Granger wept, kissing Alasdair on the forehead. Sarah Granger, though the doctors had not approved her to be walking, stood on her feet, supported by Ron, who was also sobbing, and embraced both Hermione and Alasdair, kissing him in much the same way as she had kissed Hermione, unable to say anything.


	13. Chapter 13: Playing Defense

THIRTEEN: Playing Defense

There was a bell that hung just outside the platoon's tent, used to wake people for changes in watches, and morning alarms, as well as emergencies, if need be. Ron woke up at five that morning, and rang the bell to get everyone up. Once everyone had risen, he instructed them to get showered and by the fire for breakfast at six.

"We need to get over to the hospital as soon as possible, so we can be ready to meet the Death Eaters." He told them. People showered quickly, and had gathered by the fireplace to eat breakfast. Ron hated the Ministry Auror rations like nothing else, and missed his mother's cooking, but he was well aware that in field combat, not everything can be to your tastes.

After everyone had eaten, they made their way, as a group, back to the hospital. As he approached, Ron was struck by the place, which he'd never really looked at closely. Wizard artisans had erected a wonderful sculpture of St. Mungo, the patron saint of Wizard medicine, on the roof of the building.

The sculpture depicted Mungo, a very aged and noble wizard with his arm around another wizard, and holding what was unmistakably, a sort of crucifix, even though there were some differences between this crucifix, and what Muggles called a crucifix. With his other arm, he was feeding the other wizard the Medimorph potion, which was generally regarded as the most powerful healing potion ever devised. The wizard that Mungo was supporting and healing was none other than Merlin himself, possibly the greatest wizard ever, and one who had become the wizarding population's god, much like Jesus Christ, for the Muggles. Just the sculpture alone, which Hermione said many Muggle art gallery owners would pay an arm and a leg for, radiated a sense of power and safety, and many wizards had many smaller trinkets and amulets of the two wizards. Millions of Busts and paintings had also been made of this scene. These were the only wizard paintings that did not move. Even Ron had a Merlin/Mungo amulet, but he had never told anyone about it, not knowing how his friends would think of him if they knew. It had been given to him by his Uncle Bilius as a rite-of-passage gift when Ron had been accepted into Hogwarts. As Ron looked at the statue atop the hospital, he seriously wished he had his amulet with him, for luck in the upcoming battle that was only a few hours away.

"Alright," Ron said, his voice dry, "We'll wait in the hospital, as we have no precise idea where the Death Eaters are coming from, and therefore, do not know where to meet them."

So they waited. Harry watched the windows with Calvin Harris-Coolidge, while Ron and William Aubrey discussed plans to keep the many still weak Muggles from harm. Finally, Arthur Weasley found the solution, and performed a duplication charm on a wheelchair that one of the Muggle doctors had brought. Harry now understood how the Weasleys had acquired the extra brooms they had used for the Quidditch game before Bill, Fleur, Lupin and Tonks' double wedding.

"It's not a permanent charm, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, correctly interpreting Harry's inquisitive gaze, "but should we need to move the Muggles during the attack, these'll help." Harry nodded, turning back to the windows.

"They're coming!" Aubrey barked, "And…and…blimey!" He said softly but urgently. As the group watched the band of Death Eaters come, Harry saw what had caught Aubrey's eye.

The Death Eaters had what looked like a whole Muggle Artillery at their command. Many Death Eaters were pushing things that looked like…

"Cannons." Sarah Granger whispered. By her side, Hermione shivered. Not only were the Death Eaters sporting their cannons, but also things that looked like Muggle machine guns, except that they had wands sticking out the end.

"Positions!" Ron and Harris-Coolidge barked simultaneously. Everyone got into their positions so that the Death Eaters would be unaware of their presence.

The commander of the Death Eaters looked suspiciously at the hospital. It seemed deserted. Snape and Wormtail had assured them that they knew where the hospital was, and who was going to be there and yet the building looked completely deserted. Only the proud statue of St. Mungo and Merlin showed any sign of inhabitation. The commander of the Death Eaters watched over the conjuring of sandbags and trenches, as his group prepared to make their offensive move. Finally, everything had been set up, and the two sides stood, neither one making the first move. A moment that could have lasted anywhere from minutes to hours, or maybe even days, passed.

"Why aren't they doing anything?" Ron whispered tensely to Harry, from the pillars behind which he and Harry were hiding, waiting for the right time to defend the hospital. Harry shook his head, not knowing what was going on. Then, suddenly, a voice rent the still air with one of the most dreaded wartime phrases.

"FIRE!" One of the several modified cannons shot what was unmistakably a curse at the hospital, but was the size of a cannonball, therefore being all the more lethal. The cannonball-curse hit the roof of the hospital, and with a deafening smash the statue of St. Mungo and Merlin was destroyed, and the ceiling was starting to collapse. Both Ron and Calvin Harris-Coolidge were shouting themselves hoarse with instructions.

"Everett! Samson! Lewis! Gonzales! Alexander! Take five apiece and go up right side, give em all you got!" Harris-Coolidge shouted. Everett, Samson, Lewis, Gonzales and Alexander each responded in type, grabbing five men and attacking the left side of the platoon of Death Eaters.

"Hagrid! Remus! Harry! Dad! Shacklebolt! The same, on their left!" Ron called, not quite as formally as his fellow. "Mum, Mione, Tonks, you guys focus on the Muggles! Use the doctors and healers!" Hermione didn't seem at all keen on leaving Ron, and yet seemed to be plastered, understandably, beside her mother, but she also understood that Ron was, in times like these, her superior, if only by title, and didn't dare disobey a direct order.

When the battle had reached its peak, it was becoming easy to see why Mad-Eye Moody had commented that the attack on the Burrow only a couple days ago, was easy. The Death Eaters had never fought so ferociously. The machine gun-wands could fire curses at such a rapid pace that it was all that Ron, Harry and the others could do to block the curses, and the cannons were ruthlessly effective against the hospital building. The Death Eaters also seemed to have a healthy supply of gas grenades which they were constantly lobbing at the Order and Ministry members.

In the hospital, Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, Tonks and the many Healers and Muggle Doctors were rushing around determined to see the Muggles to safety.

"Duck!" Hermione bellowed as a gas grenade was sent flying over their heads. It exploded in the west wing of patient rooms, causing the west part of the building to fall to pieces. Mrs. Weasley made to run to the west wing.

"Don't bother!" Tonks called after her, "there's nothing we can do for them!"

"Hands over your mouth and noses!" A doctor called, as gas leaked through the wreckage of the west wing.

"We need to get the patients up on the roof and out of here!" Another doctor called. Another curse-cannonball grazed the building, causing a wall to crumble, a bit of wood impaling a Muggle man's chest, killing him.

"Keep moving!" Hermione called, "mum! Get into a wheelchair!" Mrs. Granger, who was shaking from head to foot, obeyed, unable to make a stand with her daughter. She looked at Hermione with unmistakable pride at her command skills, a skill Hermione had most certainly not demonstrated before.

"We need to put weightless charms on the wheelchairs!" Hermione instructed Mrs. Weasley, Tonks and the Healers. Soon, all the accounted for wheelchairs had weightless charms applied to them and everyone present inside the hospital had formed a sort of bucket brigade of people helping the Muggles in wheelchairs up onto the roof.

Outside, the battle had gone from mildly organized to disorganized to chaotic. Though the members from both platoons had begun by focusing on the sides of the Death Eater battalion that Ron and Harris-Coolidge had ordered them to, everyone was now spread out in any place, attacking anyone and everyone. The machine gun-wands had proven to be masterfully efficient in allowing curses to be spread far and wide, killing many of the platoon soldiers ruthlessly. Ron had instructed a wave of soldiers to capture the cannons, as they presented the gravest problem to the Muggles, another wave to keep the Death Eaters from storming the hospital, and a third wave to remain in front of the hospital, blocking any curses that they possibly could. Ron watched as one of the cannons fired again.

"_Waddiwasi!_" Ron bellowed, pointing his wand at the curse-cannonball, hoping that the spell he'd seen Lupin perform on a wad of bubblegum back in his third year, might divert the curse-cannonball from going to the already ruined hospital. It half worked. The curse-cannonball did not change its course, but it did explode. The downside was that there was a small shockwave that followed the blast, which knocked Ron out cold, as well as the various soldiers near him, including Neville and Seamus Finnegan, one of Ron's old roommates from Hogwarts, and fellow freedom fighter.

Meanwhile, Harry, Ginny, Luna and Mr. Weasley were battling various Death Eaters as a little pack. Harry was showing a powerfulness he had not shown before, alternating between casting an amazing shield charm that not only protected himself, but the others as well, and firing off a killing hex that had been devised by Moody and several Aurors as being the "good" counterpart to _Avada Kedavra_, though really the only real difference was that it was legal, and that it literally had a base of heat, so it worked on Dementors as well. Harry's change from defensive to offensive work with his wand, however, took most of his concentration, and he failed to notice a grenade being launched at him. It went off near his feet, and he gave a shriek of pain, and fell to the ground.

Harry felt completely woozy and his adrenaline was rushing, and he opened his eyes, nearly passing out from what he saw. In fact, he could scarcely believe that he was staying conscious. His left leg, the leg that had been nearest the grenade, which clearly was not a gas grenade, was ripped just below the knee. Literally ripped. The job had been pretty clean. There was nothing but a few splinters of bone holding his leg on any more, and blood was gushing from it. When he saw that, he did faint.

"Harry!" Ginny sobbed. She ran over to him, looking terrified, determined and sick all at once. "_Episkey! Epikskey!! **EPISKEY!!**_" She screamed desperately, pointing her wand at Harry's mangled leg, but the healing charm was useless. In a burst of flame, however, an animal came that brought tears of relief not only to Ginny, but the others near Harry as well.

"_Fawkes_!" Ginny breathed. Mr. Weasley looked at the bird with his jaw dropped. For a moment, it seemed like time had stopped, as Fawkes, Dumbledore's pet Phoenix surveyed Harry, and rested his beautiful head near Harry's leg, crying rivers of tears. Harry's leg immediately began to heal, the healing powers of Fawkes' tears doing what the healing charm could not. Harry came round, and stared at his savior, lost for words. He managed a whisper of weak thanks however, as the bird began to take flight. It was just the wrong time, however, for the commander of the Death Eaters had taken that moment to fire another hex at them. It struck Fawkes in the chest, and the moment the bird glowed an unearthly shade of white and disappeared, Harry and the others knew that Fawkes was not coming back. The bird that had been by Harry's side just as much as Dumbledore, was now dead, just like his master. The light from Fawkes, however, had cast the face of the Death Eater commander, hidden underneath his cloak's hood, into sharp relief, and Harry let out a shout of surprise.

_Amos Diggory_. Once again, time seemed to stop, as Harry looked at the familiar, and yet changed face of Mr. Weasley's colleague at the Ministry of Magic, and the father of Harry's late friend and fellow Triwizard Tournament competitor, Cedric. For a long moment, Harry and Mr. Diggory merely stared at each other. Suddenly, Mr. Diggory held up a hand to his colleagues.

"Hold your fire!" He called, and the Death Eaters obliged. Mr. Diggory looked at Harry, an evil grin playing over his mouth.

"So…" Mr. Diggory said, soft and icy, "so…I get to finally see your face, Mr. Potter. I get to _destroy _your face. I get to bring my master what he so desperately wants, and the one I so desperately want to see dead…you." Harry got to his feet, uncertainly. His left leg shook a little, but supported his weight.

"Good boy!" Mr. Diggory said, "I assume you want to duel, yes? Good choice, I want to see you die straight backed and proud, like your father did." Harry looked at Mr. Diggory, feeling a fear that was at least ten times worse then when he'd ever faced Voldemort. He knew he shouldn't ask what he was about to, but he couldn't keep it inside.

"Why do you want me dead?" Harry asked shakily.

"Because you killed my family!" Mr. Diggory roared. Harry took a step backwards, his eyes wide with horror.

"No…I…I never" Harry stammered. Mr. Diggory, however, seemed beyond reason. His face was lit by an insane smile and his eyes were popping and bulging.

"Ah, revenge is sweet." Mr. Diggory breathed his tone so icy now that it was palpable. Harry could even see his breath. "How I wanted to dispose of the one who killed my wife and my boy. Say goodbye, Mr. Potter."

The sensation that followed was one of the weirdest Harry had ever experienced. Mr. Diggory had spoken the killing curse, and Harry had simultaneously said the shield curse, which would not have helped, since there was no blocking _Avada Kedavra_, and yet, like it had three years ago with Voldemort, his wand connected, but unlike with Voldemort, there was no connecting beam, nor did he experience _Priori Incantatem _like he had with Voldemort, but instead, he could see the thoughts he was thinking at that moment, namely about how he liked Mr. Diggory, and had enjoyed his time with him at the Quidditch World Cup, how he had come to respect, even like Cedric as they battled the Triwizard maze together, and how he wished that he had known Cedric better, and how awful he felt that Mrs. Diggory had died, seemed to literally float from the end of his wand into Mr. Diggory's, who by the look, or rather, looks that were speeding over his face, was now feeling and thinking himself. Suddenly, he fell to his knees, and his eyes welled up with tears.

"You…you never killed Ced? Never killed Sylvia? You…you…like…_like_ us?" Mr. Diggory whispered. Harry nodded, bending down close to Mr. Diggory so that he could not miss Harry's response.

"Yes." Harry said softly but firmly, "Cedric was my friend, and I miss him. You don't know how much I would have liked to have saved him."

"Arthur…" Mr. Diggory whispered, looking at Mr. Weasley, who nodded.

"Amos. Good to have you back, mate." Mr. Weasley hugged Mr. Diggory, who suddenly pulled out his wand. Mr. Weasley and Harry backed away, but Mr. Diggory only pointed his wand towards the nearest cannon, and in a flash of red, the cannons, and all the rest of the Death Eaters' weaponry had disappeared.

"Forgive me, Harry." Mr. Diggory whispered his face now sopping wet. "I'm so sorry, Harry, Arthur, I don't know what came over me. I just returned…from Japan…saw the house destroyed…Sylvia dead…Oh sweet Merlin, you-know-who must have taken advantage of me and put me under the Imperius curse! Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"It's alright," Harry whispered, kneeling down and taking Mr. Diggory's hands, "I forgive you."

Silence engulfed the group, except for Mr. Diggory's weeping, and as Harry surveyed the battlefield, and the all but destroyed hospital, he realized that this particular battle was over, and snow was falling.

"Look, Harry, snow." Ginny said softly.

"Yes," Harry whispered, "Christmas will be coming soon." He stuck his tongue out, catching the first snowflake of the season. It was really over.


	14. Chapter 14: Diagon Alley

FOURTEEN: The Rise and fall of Diagon Alley

In chapter 232 of '_A History of Magic_' by Bathilda Bagshot, the towns of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade are discussed. Both towns were founded around the same time as Hogwarts School, around 1015 A.D. Both towns had been created mostly to help out with Hogwarts students, and provide support to the quickly increasing numbers of wizards in Britain, as Hogwarts' reputation was quickly becoming one of the most polished west of Lyon, France, where the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic was located. The Wizarding world's answer to what Muggles called a 'college town', both Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade quickly became very popular among wizarding Britain, and had been through a lot. Both towns had suffered from everything from economical downs to population booms and everything in between. Both towns had also survived Voldemort's first reign of terror, and had come out of the war, after Harry's infamous escape and defeat of Voldemort, looking relatively proud.

And yet, as George Weasley looked out of the window of the office he and Fred shared above their shop in Diagon Alley, 'proud' would have been the last word either Weasley would use to describe Diagon Alley now. George sighed, turning back to the records book he was cooking, trying to keep his mind on the records of his shop's finances, but his mind was constantly wandering these days. He sighed, giving his attempts up as a bad job, and walked back into his living space, which was combined of the two rooms adjacent to the office.

In her book, Bagshot had described the village as being one that could be counted on to be there when needed, and that the two villages would remain standing proud through thick and thin, but now that the thick was really hitting them, both villages were not standing proud anymore.

Both Florean Fortescue and Ollivander, who were some of the most prominent shop owners in Diagon Alley, had been captured by Voldemort, and though ever since last year shoppers had become more cautious about everything and starting to dwindle, nobody was shopping in Diagon Alley any more after Fortescue and Ollivander had been captured, which had hurt business. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had been the most profitable shop in Diagon Alley for the last year and a half, only Quality Quidditch Supplies hanging on their tail, but these days no shop, not even 'The Wheeze', as Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was affectionately known, was making the type of business that it used to. Only Fred and George's Owl Order service was keeping them at a profit margin of 30 and the owners of Quality Quidditch Supplies were thinking of taking a wartime sabbatical. Fred and George had also just realized their dream of buying Zonko's Joke Shop and sent Verity, their very first employee out to manage their new franchise member.

The snow that had been falling since the previous day was very pretty, and normally Fred and George would have been outdoors in an instant, trying to charm decorations out of the snow that could help with their yuletide advertising, though the end result of their efforts was usually a raucous snowball fight between the twins. Despite the beauty of the snow, it couldn't hide the rather depressing elements that the winter had brought.

Fred and George were not the types to make products, perfect them, and then sell them. Every product of theirs, regardless of how well or poorly it sold was under constant revision by the twins. The Skiving Snackboxes were one such item, where every sweet was under constant changes. Their most recent endeavor had been to change the Nosebleed Nougat ever so slightly, by now adding syrup of a rare magical herb found in Russia and Germany, the _Gasvindikun Keitbegrend Zungflore _an old term derived from the Rune translation of 'flower-bearing thorn' or as the plan is better known, Devil's Flower, which had wonderful magical properties in the syrup that comes from pressing the flower, which helps blood clotting and increases bone marrow production. Fred and George had decided to try this substance when many of their frequent Skiving Snackbox customers complained of fairly significant blood loss after eating more than five Nosebleed Nougats in the space of a week, which was common, especially with Hogwarts students.

Initially, this had seemed like the key to making the Nougats safer, and the twins were ready to give it a try, except that Devil's Flower, and syrup of Devil's Flower had been banned as a tradable substance by the magical governments of both Russia and Germany, so Fred and George had to use a semi-legit operation run by an aging Herbologist Neville Longbottom had recommended upon hearing that the twins were interested in plants that could be used towards their products. Because of the questionable legality of syrup of Devil's Flower, Fred, George and their contact couldn't trade right in the middle of Diagon Alley, and had to do it outside of the town.

That day, Fred had gone out to get a new supply of the syrup from their contact, so he walked briskly out of Diagon Alley to their preplanned meeting location. On the way, he admired the snow as the wind sculpted it into lovely patterned snow banks. He met up with the contact, and paid fifteen Sickles and five Galleons for the syrup, and began to walk back towards the shop, when he noticed a rather large bank of snow that looked very immaculate. In fact, Fred thought it looked just a bit too immaculate. He went over to examine the snow bank, and as he knelt down, found himself face to face with a very drunk Death Eater. The two stared each other in the face for a few minutes, before Fred tried to get away as fast as he could without running, watched lazily by the Death Eater.

When he arrived back at the shop, he noticed George and Angelina waiting for him, looking anxious.

"Where have you been? Took you long enough!" Angelina said indignantly.

"Getting the syrup of Devil's Flower" Fred replied, "wait until you hear what I saw coming back, though." He led the other two back upstairs, and gestured the other two to sit down on the couch while he uncorked a Butterbeer. Sitting down beside George, Fred recounted the Death Eaters' camp. After he had finished, both George and Angelina looked at him with open mouths.

"And that Death Eater just let you walk free?" George asked, "That's unusual for a Death Eater."

"He was plastered, though," Fred said, "I doubt he would have let me if he had any sense."

"Still," George countered, "surely the alcohol would have only made him more ferocious."

"It does run against all reason," said Angelina, "but the important thing is that Fred's still with us." George nodded.

"I bet you the shop that this means there will be an attack. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, but whatever the case, we ought to be ready. I think to that the Wheeze is the safest place in Diagon Alley, and we ought to round up all the shop owners that haven't already left and keep them safe. We can enlarge the basement; that ought to do." Angelina and Fred looked at him with pure admiration in their eyes, but said nothing. Taking that as assent, George stomped down to the basement with his wand in his hand.

As George had reasoned out, the Death Eaters did in fact make a move on the town the next morning, but a few steps ahead of them, Fred, George and Angelina had rounded up the members of Diagon Alley and hidden them in the basement while the battle raged above. Fred and George and many others fought like hell to defend Diagon Alley, and as a result, the battlefield was hot and intense, but the Death Eaters seemed more interested in looting the shops, and soon the battle was over, leaving Diagon Alley unrecognizable, but thankfully, few had died, and yet the destruction made it look like everyone had died.

Fred and George had become heroes within minutes, but it was a very hollow sort of feeling. The Wheeze remained untouched, but many of the Diagon Alley shops had been completely destroyed, along with the lives of the shop owners. Once again, George pulled himself away from his office window, sighing, and ran into his brother.

"Mum sent this," he said, thrusting a letter in George's hand. The letter was more of a note, but in times like these, such a note made George feel all warm inside and want to cry.

_Dear Fred and George,_

_We're having a Christmas party at the Burrow. We want to have some fun in such dark times, and a break from fighting seems well in order. Please join us; I won't take no for an answer._

_With love,_

_Your mother_

"Shall we go?" George asked Fred.

"Mum would say we'd gone mental if we declined," Fred said, "and I'm beginning to think so too. Yes, we'll go." George smiled sadly. It was going to be fun, but it was going to be the only fun they would have for a long tome, he reckoned.

4


	15. Chapter 15: Christmas Cheer

FIFTEEN: Take a cup of Christmas cheer…

It had been an immense relief to get back to the Burrow after the attack. Hermione had begged her mother to stay under Mrs. Weasley's care now that the hospital had been destroyed, and Mrs. Granger had consented. Ron had also been very weak after being hit by the shock wave from the curse-cannonball, and Hermione and Mrs. Weasley had been busy helping him recover too. It was about then that Mrs. and Mr. Weasley had silently agreed that a Christmas party was in order, both believing that keeping companionship with everybody would help keep everyone's morale up. It had been a wonderful idea, one that everyone had wholeheartedly supported, and the whole Weasley family plus Harry, Hermione and Mrs. Granger were issuing invitations.

Almost everyone had accepted their invitations, except for Amos Diggory, who apologizing most profusely, said he needed time to himself to reflect over his grief and recent actions. He had flooed the day before with a shocking confession.

"I just want to tell you Harry, and you, Arthur," Amos had begun very hesitantly, "I…er…well you see…you-know-who never put me…put me…under the Imperius Curse…I mean he…well rather a band of his Death Eaters had told me that it was you, Harry, who killed Sylvia and Ced…I just…er…overreacted, I guess. I really am _so _sorry, especially to you, Harry, but, well I…I'm sorry. Thank you very much for inviting me, but I cannot come. I need to withdraw for a few days. I hope you can understand why. I'll be lying low at your son Bill's for a while Arthur, but I also hope you can understand why I'd rather you don't call, and I'll probably keep moving for a few days." After that, he withdrew his head from the fire. Harry maintained that he forgave Mr. Diggory with all his heart, and yet he had fumed for a while over Mr. Diggory calling what he had done 'overreacting'. Ginny had managed to calm him down by reminding him of how much grief Mr. Diggory was undoubtedly feeling.

"I'm sure he feels unspeakably guilty, too, Harry, for what he did to you; to us; so you can't fault him for saying that, Harry. I know, he knows, we all know that what he did was so much more than overreacting, but he needs time to come to terms with what he did, Harry. Just give him that time."

"By Merlin, Ginny, I think you're channeling Hermione." Harry had said, grinning.

"I'm serious, Harry." Ginny said softly but sternly.

"I know," Harry said, his smirk giving way to a serious face, "and you are right." He grinned again. "You have an extraordinary talent for proving me wrong, and setting me right." Even Ginny had giggled at that, and no one spoke of Amos Diggory again after that.

It was two days later, with Christmas two days after that, however, that Harry and Ron would remember for the rest of their lives. It had taken some convincing, but after a little while, Mrs. Weasley had accepted that Ron and Harry had shown enough adult behavior that she consented to letting them go to Diagon Alley on their own to go Christmas shopping. When they apparated there, they had seen the destruction caused by the Death Eaters. The two stood there, mouths agape.

"Good gracious Merlin!" Ron whispered, "is there anyplace we can get gifts? This is horrible!"

"Maybe we should stop by Fred and George's place. They'd probably know."

"Yeah, that sounds good." The two walked over to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and rang the doorbell. Angelina Johnson answered, looking extremely careworn.

"Oh…hi." She said, sounding oddly hollow and tired. "George! George, your brother is here." She called over her shoulder.

"Hello, Ron, hi Harry." George said, his voice echoing Angelina's, which completely unnerved Ron, who had never heard George or Fred talk like that before.

"Where's Fred?" Ron asked.

"Having a cuppa with Tom at the Leaky Cauldron. What're you two doing here anyway?"

"Christmas shopping. What else?" Ron replied.

"Oh. You're gonna be the only ones giving gifts this year then," George said wearily, "the only others giving gifts will be people who hand make their gifts, like mum. No one's shopped down here for the last month. Even our owl order business is drooping." George sighed.

"Er…" Ron was clearly taken aback by his brother's depression, "can you tell us which shops are still open?"

"The ones on the right side," George said, "and I don't know why. We've decided to take a leaf outta Quality Quidditch Supplies' book, and close until the war is over." Ron thanked his brother, and beckoned Harry to follow.

"See you tonight!" George called sadly after them. Ron led Harry down the right side of Diagon Alley, obviously looking for a particular shop. He finally stopped in front of one.

"Well…er…here we are." He said nervously, "come on, Harry." Harry, however, remained put, frowning.

"Um…Ron…this is a jewelry shop." Harry said.

"I…I know," Ron said, his nervousness doubling, "Harry…you…you're going to hate me for this…I know she's like your sister…um…but…I think you deserve…you know…to know…"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, spit it out, Ron." Harry said, feeling confused, and yet, by the clues Ron had given, terrified and furious.

"I'm gonna…propose to…Hermione." Ron said, looking at his feet. Harry was rendered speechless, and to his amazement, he didn't feel angry, once Ron had come out with his intentions. It was true that he thought of Hermione as a sister, and that he often felt protective of her, and he hated Ron for the pain he had caused her while he 'dated' Lavender, but now it seemed Ron had come to terms with his feelings, and wanted to try and make up for hurting her, and maybe, like Harry, he was dreading the fact that he might never get another opportunity to propose. Thus, Harry felt he might as well confess his own plans.

"Um…Ron, mate…er…I was going to propose to Ginny as well, but…I've already got a ring." By the way Ron was looking at him, Harry could tell he was thinking the same thoughts, and suddenly the two came to an unspoken agreement, and without another word, walked into the store.

"Hello, dears, what can I help you with?" The witch at the counter said, her voice sounding exactly like Angelina and George's voices.

"Erm…I want to look at engagement/marriage bands, please." Ron said nervously.

"Certainly, sir." The witch said, pulling out various rings. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "I was going to close up, like so many other shops have…you know, the war and all, but sales in friendship, family, engagement and marriage rings has been booming. Two other chaps, including Mrs. Longbottom's son stopped in just earlier today. Awfully nice chap and he looks so much like Alice, poor dear. I gave Frank his bands when he wed her. They didn't deserve their fate." Ron and Harry's jaws dropped. Who had Neville, of all people, proposed to? Ron and Harry allowed their thoughts to wander, as they looked at the various rings. Finally, one caught Ron's eye. It had a center of a beautiful ocean blue diamond.

"She'll love it." Ron whispered in awe, "blue is her favorite color, she told me." He looked at the witch. "I'll take it." He said, withdrawing his money bag. They left soon after, deciding to stop by the Leaky Cauldron to see Fred before apparating home.

"Harry," Ron said, as they walked, "when did you get rings for Ginny?"

"I found mum and dad's rings when we visited Godric's Hollow," Harry replied, "and I think they're perfect." Ron nodded, as they entered the Leaky Cauldron. Tom, the Leaky Cauldron's landlord, looked, and spoke like everyone else that Harry and Ron had seen, and they began to wonder what had happened to make the shop owners so depressed. Apologetically, Tom told them that Fred had had a little too much Firewhisky and was lying down. Harry and Ron thanked Tom, and apparated back to the Burrow.

"Now comes the really hard part." Ron commented the moment they had arrived. Harry smiled weakly. Finding the courage to ask Arthur Weasley for his blessing would indeed be tough.

"Alasdair Granger already…" Ron's voice became choked "…gave me his blessing, but I think it only makes sense to get Hermione's mother's approval." Harry nodded, though caught a bit unawares by Ron's mature and thoughtful decision. When they entered, Ron nervously approached Sarah Granger while Harry went to his room to fetch his locket.

"Um…Mrs. Granger…I…I…can we talk somewhere alone?" Ron asked, shifting his weight and fingering the box that held the rings. Sarah Granger smiled to herself. The young man's nervousness, combined with his constantly fiddling with an object in his pocket made her think she knew exactly what was coming. The two entered the spare bedroom where Mrs. Granger slept at the Burrow.

"Um…I…I just…" Ron went red, and his face felt hot. Why now? _Why_?? "I just…wanted…" sweat was forming on his brow now "to…ask…for your blessing…in…asking for Hermioneshand." The last two words came out as one, Ron's nerves having reached their limit. Sarah Granger giggled, getting to her feet, tears forming in her eyes. She pulled Ron into a hug.

"Ron, my boy, Al mentioned in his letter to me that he had given his blessing for you two. If he gives you his blessing, you have mine as well. I agree with Al about you, to the bottom of my heart. You have my absolute, unwavering blessing and support in this undertaking. I'm going to miss my little baby girl, Ron, but I trust you will bring her around for a visit now and again." Ron grinned foolishly and returned Mrs. Granger's hug.

"There is one condition, however, Ron." Mrs. Granger said.

"What is it?" Ron asked, hoping he didn't sound worried or dejected.

"Please, don't call me 'Mrs. Granger' any more. I'd be much happier if you called me 'Sarah' or 'mum' from now on." Ron chuckled.

"No problem…Sarah." She smiled. Ron thanked her, and left, running into Harry, who was rubbing sweat from his brow, but looking immensely pleased.

"So, Harry…are we soon-to-be brothers-in-law?" Ron asked.

"Yup," Harry said, grinning. "I think so…the four of us…all family…things really are changing, aren't they?"

"Yes." Ron replied, in an awed voice.

"I can't wait for Christmas day." Harry said, his grin seeming to have no end.

"Me either." Ron said, his grin just as big.

Christmas had come, but the air was not as festive as anyone was accustomed to, mainly because everyone had taken to listening to the Wizard Wireless Network every evening for news on the war, none of which was good, but even despite this, Harry and Ron felt completely cheerful that Christmas day, even if it was a wartime Christmas. George had been right to say that no one had been getting gifts except for those who made their gifts by hand. Everyone had one of Mrs. Weasley's trademark sweaters, but no one had anything else. Ginny and Hermione's faces had fallen, though, when they had not gotten any packages from Harry or Ron, as they'd both made the effort to get their boyfriends gifts (homemade, of course).

"Um…" Ginny said, nervously, but with a notable bite of sadness and incredulity "…not that it matters, Harry, but why didn't you get me anything?" Harry grinned. This was the exact moment that he'd been waiting for.

"Oh, I got you something, Ginny my love, but we have to open it…er…alone together. Will you accompany me to your room?"

"Um…okay." Ginny said, feeling shocked. Once Harry had steered her into her room and coaxed her down on her bed, he withdrew the locket from his pocket, and handed it to Ginny.

"Open it." He gently urged her in a whisper. She did so, and her eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as she looked at the rings. Harry, meanwhile, sunk, not just to one, but both of his knees, and with shaking hands, withdrew the ring with the green diamond, and pulled her left hand towards him, while Ron simultaneously did the same to Hermione in his room.

"Ginny…"

"Hermione…"

"…I remember when I first met you…"

"…It was right here at the Burrow…"

"…On the train to school first year…"

"…You stuck your elbow in the butter dish…"

"…You embarrassed me about George's bogus spell to turn Scabbers yellow, and the fact that mum hadn't banished all the dirt off my nose…"

"…I didn't really notice you at first, or let you become a friend, though I should have…"

"…I thought you were a nightmare, cause you were so bossy…"

"…But as time went on, I watched you blossom into a beautiful person in body and in soul…"

"…I began to wonder if I fancied you…I mean, why else would I have hated my hero Viktor Krum so much?"

"…And I can see it now, as clear as day…"

"…And I mean it with all my heart…"

"…You're the perfect woman for me…"

"…There is no one I'd rather share my life with, Mione. No one…"

"…For better or worse…"

"…I want to be there with you."

"Ginevra Molly Weasley…"

"Hermione Jane Granger…"

"…Will you marry me?" The reactions of the two women were a bit different, as Harry slid the emerald ring onto Ginny's finger, and Ron, the blue one onto Hermione's finger. Ginny rested her eyes on the ring, and then threw herself upon Harry, knocking him over, and showering his face in kisses.

"About…bloody…time…Potter! Yes!!" Ginny said, kissing him to accentuate her words. She continued to kiss him, laughing, while Harry held her, laughing as well.

Upstairs in Ron's room, Hermione stood stock still, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I didn't…I mean I…I'm sorry if I scared you…I…" Ron said, rambling a little. Hermione gave him a wet smile, and half laughed, half sobbed.

"No, you fool…I was just thinking…about what dad said in his letter to me…and I never thought it would ever come to this…oh, Ron, yes. Yes, of course I'll marry you!" She knelt down beside Ron and gave him a kiss such as he'd never forget.

"Hermione," Ron said, "I love you. I love you with all my heart…happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, Ron."

"Happy Christmas, Ginny."

"Happy Christmas, Harry." The four walked back down to the kitchen together, to make the announcement.

"Well, there you are. We wondered where you had gotten to." Fred said, mockingly.

"What'd Harry get you for Christmas?" George said teasingly to Ginny, who gave a secretive smirk.

"I hope that you know, Ron," Fred continued, "that Christmas is a time for giving, and that it's about time you got Hermione something. Oh, Harry, the same goes for you."

"Yes, well, Harry has, in fact given me something," Ginny said. She turned to face her parents. "Mum…dad…Harry and I are engaged. That was his gift."

"Yeah," Ron said, turning a bit red, but managing to keep control of his voice, "as Fred said, so _wisely_, Christmas is a time for giving, and well, I gave Hermione…er…mum, dad, Sarah, Hermione and I are engaged." It took a few minutes for Mrs. or Mr. Weasley or Mrs. Granger to speak, but Mrs. Weasley finally rose from her seat, and walked over to where Ginny and Ron were standing, and after examining the rings to make sure they were genuine, gave a sob of delight, and embraced Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny, followed by Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Granger, who then moved on to embrace Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

As the group sat around listening to the WWN, there was, at long last, an air of Christmas as the newscaster ran through the top stories. However, when he got onto attacks on Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, Fred turned the radio off, while George proceeded to give a firsthand account of the attacks, getting more choked up the farther into the story he got.

"…And then we found out the worst." Fred finished for George, slouching against the chair upon which he was sitting.

"What was it dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking amazed at Fred's obvious depression.

"We got an owl from one of our suppliers who was visiting our Hogsmeade branch. I told you of course, that we had sent Verity out there to manage the shop, well…apparently, she tried to defend the place during the attack, and now…" he gulped "…she's dead." George shook his head.

"Our first ever employee…dead." He said in a very constricted voice. As soon as it had come, the feeling of Christmas had been wiped away again. Ginny and Hermione both had tears in their eyes when a moment ago, they had been whispering 'I can't believe you're my fiancée' to Harry and Ron.

"Your first employee…that's something special," Fred said, "and then you loose them."

"Like loosing your first born child." George agreed, a few tears falling down his face. Harry turned to Mr. Weasley.

"You and Lupin said you had some ideas on how to destroy Slytherin's locket…what are they?" Harry asked. Mr. Weasley shook his head.

"Not tonight, Harry. I suggest you and your fiancée enjoy one more night of peace." Harry grinned slightly, and followed Ginny up to bed. He looked long and hard at her, finally making up his mind where she was concerned.

"Ginny, I think that you have just as much right to join me and the others in the Horcrux hunt, and I'm starting to think that Dumbledore would agree with me, too, and I doubt Hermione will object…I suppose Ron might…but I hope you are aware of what you are getting into…I still don't want you to put you in danger."

"I understand, Harry, and I know what I'm getting into. I fought alongside you to liberate the death camp and defend the hospital. I know what we're up against." Harry smiled.

"You're right. I'm sorry I never gave you enough credit. You're a very strong witch, which is probably why I love you so. I love you, Ginny. I have since I first met you, even if it took me until sixth year to see it. I hope you know that I loved you even when I broke up with you at Dumbledore's funeral."

"I know, Harry. I'm just glad you followed your heart. This is the best Christmas I've had for a long time, Harry. I love you. I love you more than I can say."

"I can't believe you are my fiancée."

"Me either. Come to bed, and tomorrow, we can worry about those bloody Horcruxes." Harry grinned even more, and climbed into bed with Ginny, realizing how close to heaven he was, and realizing that he now felt completely ready to take on Voldemort. It did not matter what happened to him now, for he had made the move that finally made him feel complete. Smiling, he held his ring, the one that had been his father's, up to Ginny's hair. The colors matched completely, and he realized that he was matched completely, and that his love would indeed save him. Smiling, he snuggled up to Ginny.

"I love you." He whispered, as he fell asleep. Ginny was right. It was the best Christmas he'd had in a long time.


	16. Chapter 16: A very UNhappy New Year

SIXTEEN: A very _un_happy New Year

It was the New Year, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had made a determined effort to make sure the last few days of their respite at the Burrow was as much fun as they could possibly have. For the first time, everyone was thankful that the twins had opted to close down for the war, as they had proven to be very able snowball fighters and fun mongers. Hermione, however, surprised them. She was never much of a snowball fighter, usually opting to watch, and not participate, but whether it was because she was Ron Weasley's fiancée, or whether she was just determined to have all the fun she could, no one knew, but Hermione had proven herself a domineering snowball fighter, equaled by only the twins. She later confessed that when she was eight, her parents had gone to America for a conference on worldwide dental affairs hosted by the ADA in Boston, Massachusetts, where she and her father had attended a Baseball game, a sport which Hermione's father had become enamored, and they often played catch every day afterward as a way to spend their father-daughter time, so Hermione had developed quite a throwing arm, and could throw with more zip than anyone else, even the twins.

Despite all the attempts at fun, however, everyone was also turning to what lay ahead. The Order of the Phoenix had met a couple of times, and Harry had suggested that PLAT-O be reassigned to focus entirely on the Horcruxes. He had not really expected the Ministry to agree, and had been most shocked when Kingsley Shacklebolt had stopped by the Burrow to tell Harry that he had passed on Harry's ideas to the Ministry as a proposal of action, and the Ministry had agreed to the proposition.

So it was that the next few hours found Harry pouring through books with the assistance of Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Lupin, as they tried to reason out the best way of destroying the locket.

"What sort of curse do you think would be most effective?" Harry asked Hermione after about an hour of reading. He had not found a thing that seemed to have either any relation to Horcruxes or simply didn't seem to be powerful enough to destroy such a heavily protected object.

"Oh, I don't know, Harry." Hermione said in a frustrated voice, "there just doesn't seem to be a curse invented for such a purpose."

"Horcruxes are not very common, and have not been studied very much," Lupin explained, "so I think you would be hard pressed to find information on anti-Horcrux curses. In fact, I'm not convinced that looking at curses is the right step here."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Do you remember how you destroyed the diary, Harry?" Lupin asked.

"I stabbed it with the basilisk fang." Harry said, frowning. "I don't understand, though. Do you mean that a basilisk fang is the answer here?"

"Maybe not basilisk fangs, Harry, but there are many magical qualities possessed by either magical creatures or magical plants, many of which tend, in their own ways, to be more powerful than curses. As I recall, Acromantula venom tends to have many magical properties, including an unusual ability to extricate entrapped objects."

"Like a soul hidden within another object?" Harry asked.

"It seems likely," Lupin responded. "Naturally, we would have to dilute it, so that we are not at risk from the poisons of the venom."

"But…but…we'd still need a curse to destroy the bit of Voldemort's soul, once we've extracted it." Hermione said.

"I would imagine so," Lupin agreed, "but I doubt that will be as troublesome as finding Acromantula venom."

"But those types of curses can be extraordinarily powerful!" Hermione said, her voice anxious, "sometimes life threatening, not to mention extraordinarily difficult to cast!"

"Harry…" Ron said, pulling his nose out of a book, "didn't Professor Slughorn agree to come to Hagrid's burial ceremony for Aragog so he could get some Acromantula venom from Aragog last year?"

"Yes," Harry said, remembering the occasion well, "yes, he did."

"Would he still have it?" Lupin asked.

"I doubt it," Harry said with a slightly bitter laugh, "Professor Slughorn always seemed to be a bit of a pirate when it came to stuff of value: He couldn't wait to sell it for a pretty Knut." Hermione and Ron chuckled.

"Still," Lupin said, "that is our best shot at obtaining some. Our only other option is to go looking for an Acromantula, and I know I don't and I'm sure you don't, want to do so. Giant spiders are not known for their generosity." Everyone chuckled at Lupin's joke. "So…are we agreed on this course of action?" Everyone nodded.

"Good. Then we will stop by his house tomorrow when we leave."

"His house?" Harry said, "wouldn't we stop by Hogwarts?" Lupin shook his head.

"No, Harry. Minerva told us during that meeting of the Order you chose not to attend that the school governors unanimously voted to close Hogwarts just after the attack on the hospital." Just then, Mrs. Weasley stuck her head in on the group.

"I'm so sorry to disturb, bur dinner is ready."

"No problem, Molly, we're done. We'll be down straight away." Lupin said, smiling. Mrs. Weasley gave an appreciative nod and withdrew from the room.

Everyone ate in silence, no one really knowing what to say, or really feeling much like talking. It seemed that everyone was content to eat and try to not think too hard about what was in store for them all. Finally people were finishing up, and Mrs. Weasley was cleaning up. Mrs. Granger said she had a very mild headache and wanted to lie down, but asked Mrs. Weasley if she might raid her library to find a book to read while she relaxed. Mrs. Weasley had not objected.

"Well, it's almost time for the news." Mr. Weasley said. Listening to the news on the WWN had become a nightly ritual for the Weasleys and many other wizards throughout Britain. In a few minutes all of the Weasleys, Harry, Lupin and Hermione were sitting around the radio, waiting for the musical ditty that heralded the news. It never came. Instead, a high, cold voice that froze the blood of everyone present blared from the radio.

Lord Voldemort was making a public speech.

The idea itself was mad, and no less than terrifying. Harry and the others were indeed staring at the radio, lost for words.

Voldemort was speaking about his plans, which in itself surprised everyone, even many of his own followers, as it had become common knowledge that Voldemort preferred to operate in secrecy, rather than letting everyone know his motives. The way he spoke also was unnerving. He spoke softly, his arguments within reason, or at least, most of them, but even though he spoke softly, his voice was filled with passion, making everything he said sound reasonable, even the parts of his speech that were totally unreasonable.

Voldemort had denounced the current government, and most of its predecessors as being lazy bureaucratic fat cats and incompetents who took no pride in what they did, saying that the Ministry of Magic was to blame for the chaos that was engulfing the whole of the wizarding world. Even more than government, Voldemort had said, the Muggles were to blame. Voldemort casually denounced the whole Muggle world as 'Blackguards' and 'a race of cheats, who ensnare the minds and senses of our wizard and witchfolk, from the brightest to the dumbest'. He called Muggles 'the anti-Merlin', 'our undoing' and 'the spit that befouls shined shoes'.

And what made it so much worse, was that wizards everywhere, who had both supported and opposed Voldemort in his first reign, were now nodding their heads in agreement…

"**Turn it off**!!" Ginny bellowed at last, her hands clasped tightly over her ears, her eyes swimming with fear. Fred pointed his wand at the radio, causing it to turn off. A silence engulfed the group that left everyone's ears ringing. Ginny was on Harry's lap trembling, and unable to speak. Finally, Hermione excused herself to go see her mother.

Sarah Granger was lying down on her bed, her headache completely gone, but engrossed in the book she had borrowed from Mrs. Weasley. Hermione entered the room quietly.

"Hi, mum." She said quietly, climbing up on the bed and stretching out beside her mother.

"Hey baby." Sarah responded. She looked at the cover of the book and at her daughter and grinned. "You know, I never expected Ronald's mother to have a book like this, when, after all, Jane Austen is a…what is it...a Muggle." Hermione laughed, though her laugh quickly gave way to a sob.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Sarah asked gently.

"I'm so scared." Hermione sobbed, "I'm just so scared, mum." Sarah put down her book, and pulled Hermione into a hug, rubbing her back in calming circles, whispering words of comfort to Hermione as she cried onto her mother's shoulder.

Back out in the living room, Ron had sat in seat, his terror unspeakable, but after a few minutes crossed the room to where his father stood. He looked at his father and then at his feet for a few seconds before hugging him very tightly, Ron's eyes telling Arthur Weasley all he needed to know. Ginny, meanwhile, had gotten up off of Harry's lap, and proceeded to sit down in Mrs. Weasley's lap. She did not cry, but rather, ran her finger over Mrs. Weasley's whole body as if to memorize the way her mother looked, how she was shaped, and what she smelt like. Tears did flow from her eyes though, as her mother pulled her into a very tight and very warm hug.

Harry watched from his seat, his fear now being mixed with misery. He had no one. True he regarded Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as the closest thing he had to parents, and of course, when he had been alive, Sirius. For some reason, though, when he needed comfort, he would turn first to Sirius, finding it a bit uncomfortable to speak his mind about such things to Mr. or Mrs. Weasley, irregardless of how much he loved them, and right now, he didn't feel like confessing to them how afraid he was. Lupin, who had been beside Mr. Weasley through the radio broadcast, noticed Harry, whose face made it pretty obvious what he was thinking, sat down beside him.

"Hi, Harry, are you okay?" Lupin asked gently.

"I'm just…I'm fine." Harry responded gruffly.

"When we were about to go over to the Ministry for our briefing on our mission to liberate the death camp," Lupin said, softer and gentler still, "and I was comforting Molly, saying that how even though I was not Sirius, and therefore was not your godfather, but I still didn't want you going off to fight, what I meant to say Harry, was that I may not be your godfather, but I still love you, Harry." Harry looked up, his eyes misty. Lupin smiled.

"I was there with your mother, father and Sirius when you were born, Harry. I don't think I've ever seen James cry before, but he certainly did then. I think Sirius, on the other hand, was putting all of his energy into restraining himself from dancing a jig, so he would remain polite and not embarrass himself in front of Lily and the two Healers present, who were young and cute women. Sirius wasn't a great dancer, you see." Harry chuckled, causing a few tears to fall.

"I do love you, Harry." Lupin said earnestly, "I would have very much liked to have been in Sirius' place, and Lily actually preferred me as a godfather, but I declined because of my lycanthropy." He pulled Harry into a hug, while Harry tried not to cry.

"I'm scared." He finally admitted to Lupin.

"So am I." Lupin said.

Finally, Ron had said that he needed to get to bed, and that he was feeling exhausted, and that he wanted to feel rested in the morning. Harry walked over to where Ginny was being cuddled by Mr. Weasley, after Ron had gone over to Mrs. Weasley for a bit, and asked her if she would mind if he slept alone that night.

"Arthur--" Harry had decided that from now on, he would call his soon to be in-laws by their first names now, not to mention that Mr. Weasley had made a similar request of him that Mrs. Granger had made of Ron, "--is that spare room you conjured up for Fleur's uncles still in existence? I…er…want to literally sleep alone tonight, so that I may…think." Mr. Weasley nodded. Harry thanked him, and bade both Mr. Weasley and Ginny good night and made his way to the spare room. He fell asleep almost the instant his head hit the pillow.

Upstairs in his room however, Ron was not able to fall asleep, but instead lay there tossing and turning, trying to not think about what he had just heard on the radio, or how terrified he was for Hermione and Sarah. He had connected very well with Hermione's parents, and had, like Alasdair had said to him back in the hospital, cherished the idea of being Alasdair and Sarah Granger's son-in-law. He had lost Alasdair before he hardly even knew him, and his heart broke to think of how he'd feel if he lost Sarah or Hermione.

If his heart broke to think of what would happen to Hermione or Sarah, it shattered, broke and then shattered again to think of what would happen if one of his family died. Like Ginny, he had been determined to etch a permanent picture of his mother in his head, though he had not felt her the way Ginny had, fearing that it might have been viewed as inappropriate. He rarely hugged other men, and for a long time, Ron had restricted himself to hugging his father goodnight, almost never hugging him during the day or in public, preferring to trade a more masculine punch on the arm, or messing of the hair, but tonight, Ron had opted to hug his father. He needed to feel his father's body against his own, and need to relive some of the happiest times the two had spent together, while feeling his father's paternal warmth. His musings, however, were ended by a soft knock on the door to his room.

"Ron, are you in there?" A familiar voice asked in a carrying whisper.

"Yeah, who's there?" Ron whispered back, though he already knew who it was. Hermione came into the room and approached the bed. Ron couldn't help but gasp as she knelt down beside him. She had stepped into a pool of moonlight, and Ron saw very clearly that she was naked. Ron tried his hardest to remain interested in a bit of thread on his Chudley Cannons bedspread that was starting to become unraveled with age.

"Ron…" Hermione spoke in a hesitant whisper, causing Ron's eyes to return to her face, though he willed himself to keep them there, and not wander any lower, "Ron, love me…please." Ron's eyes widened even more, his line of vision sneaking a glance at her arse, beautifully bathed in the moonlight.

"I…I…do love you." Ron said, trying to pretend he hadn't understood what Hermione meant. He forced his vision to return to his bedspread. Hermione sighed.

"We've cuddled before." Ron pointed out, nervously.

"Yes," Hermione agreed, "but we've never actually made out." Ron had lost his voice. He remained staring fixedly at the double C logo. To his amazement, Hermione giggled.

"And another thing, why aren't you looking at me?" she asked, knowing his amusing answer.

"Because I don't want to stare at you." Ron replied sheepishly, trying to calm both his nerves and his arousal. Hermione gave his arm a playful swat.

"Boy, you really can be so thick sometimes," she said playfully, "I want you to stare at me." She then became serious again. "Ron…I…what if I never get another…" she swallowed a lump in her throat "…never get another chance?" Her words striking to the heart of the matter that so bothered Ron, he chanced another look at her face, and was shocked to see her eyes swimming with tears. She was being completely honest.

"I'm sorry, Mione." Ron whispered, "I'm just nervous." He kicked off the bedspread and his boxers. "Come here, my fair lady." She giggled, grinning as Ron's eyes swept over her naked body as she climbed into bed with him, pulling Ron into a deep loving kiss. Ron surfaced from the kiss, and started letting his lips explore her face, and then move around her neck. He rested his whole head there for a few seconds, and then moved down to her chest. He traced the outline of her breasts first with his finger, then again with his tongue. Hermione gave a soft moan of pleasure, and opened up her legs as Ron began to explore her lower body. He ran his hands lovingly down her inner thighs, and down her legs, loving her soft skin. He squeezed her toes, eliciting another moan, and before he knew what he was doing, he allowed himself to enter her, totally and completely, though thankfully, safely as well.

"Ron…" Hermione whispered ecstatically. Ron kissed her many times over, in response as he continued to love her, though he was starting to get sleepy, and in a few minutes, he had fallen asleep, still connected within Hermione, but nothing had felt as perfect as it did now, as just about every part of his body was in contact with a part of Hermione's body, and every time he inhaled, all he could smell was her. He knew now that he could get a good night's sleep and be prepared to face what the morning brought.


	17. Chapter 17: Tears and a Journey

SEVENTEEN: Tears and a Journey

Lupin had awoken Harry and the others at five that morning, so they could be out of the Burrow by seven. Six, if they were lucky, but a few things had to be discussed first.

"Wuzzup?" Harry muttered groggily, as Lupin gently but firmly shook him awake.

"Come on Harry, it's time to get up." Lupin said, amazed at the almost fatherly sound to his voice. He was starting to wonder if maybe he and Tonks should consider having a child or two…but he was a werewolf…Harry stirred fretfully, attempting to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

"Mmf…Moony, 's not even light out." Harry grumbled, his tongue still not working properly.

"I know, Harry, but we need to get an early start today, and we still need to discuss a few things before we go." Lupin said. Harry felt like he had been drenched in ice. He had forgotten that they were leaving today to stop by Horace Slughorn's house and start the hunt for the Horcruxes. Now wide awake, he sat up, put his glasses on and found some clean clothes.

"Good man. Why don't you go wake up your fiancée, and I'll go rouse your mates."

"Honestly," Harry said in mock irritation, "why does everyone call her 'my fiancée'? She's still Ginny." Lupin grinned.

"None of us can believe it, Harry," Lupin chuckled, "that's why. I'm sure Arthur and Molly get funny tastes in their mouths every time they say it."

"Do you think Ginny believes it?"

"Probably the least. She doubtlessly dreamed of being your wife-to-be and then wife since she was a little girl. Now that perhaps her biggest dream has, in fact, become reality, I bet her brain hasn't totally wrapped around that fact. I don't know why, but people are like that." Harry grinned.

"Yeah…" he said looking at his ring, "yeah, I feel the same way." Lupin chuckled again.

"Then why don't you go wake her?" Lupin said, gesturing comically towards the bedroom door. Shaking his head, and still grinning, Harry departed, yawning slightly. He entered Ginny's room, and proceeded to gently shake her awake. He had actually tried kissing her awake, but it had not proved to have the desired effect. She had merely grinned in her sleep, and rolled over onto her side. Amusedly, Harry wondered if he had altered her dreams any. Finally, after she had gotten as reluctantly awake as he had, the two went downstairs to find the kitchen already occupied by Ron, Lupin, Hermione, Tonks, Fred, George, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger. Ron was looking like he could go right back to sleep where he was. Beside him, Hermione seemed uncharacteristically disheveled, unkempt, and tousle-haired. Beside Harry, Ginny was pale and frightened looking.

"Well, now that we are all here," Lupin said, "I just want to go over a few things before we go. I was talking with Minerva about the best way to go about the hunt for the Horcruxes, and we both think that everyone will still be involved, however, we also agree that Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione and myself will be the ones to actually look for the Horcruxes, while everyone else will keep us informed of any possible whereabouts of the Horcruxes. You will, in effect, be our extended eyes and ears. I've already owled Bill and Charlie, and they say they will be delighted to help us. We will want to keep communication between each other minimal, but anytime you hear anything that might be a lead, you may contact us."

Lupin looked around. Harry seemed to be lost in thought. Ginny was holding onto Harry's arm in a death grip, and he was starting to loose feeling in the arm as circulation was being slowly cut off, though Harry had not noticed. Ron was now looking much more awake, his arms draped protectively over Hermione, who was trying to comb her bushy hair with her fingers. Lupin's eyes rested on Tonks, who looked a bit green. When she had made eye contact with him, her eyes welled up with many tears. Lupin looked back at Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione.

"I took the liberty of packing you all some rucksacks. I daresay we want to travel as light as possible." Harry nodded in response, now trying to loosen Ginny's grip on his arm.

"Erm…is everyone ready to go?" Lupin's throat was dry, and his normally hoarse voice had nearly doubled in hoarseness. Harry and the other stood, followed by the others who had been sitting beside them. Harry's body, though most notably, his hands, shook, and he didn't think it had anything to do with the coffee he had just drunk.

"Er…um…" he started, his eyes wandering over Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Granger and Tonks, who all bore expectant looks on their faces. It was easily the tensest situation he had ever been in, neither group wanting to say goodbye. After a few minutes of the two groups merely staring at each other, Ron strode forward, and embraced Mrs. Granger.

"Ron…" Mrs. Granger whispered, "bring my little girl back to me, please. Be good to her and keep her safe."

"I will, Sarah. I will, I promise." Ron whispered back. He then moved on to be in front of his father. The two just stared at each other for a few minutes, then Ron embraced him with such force as he'd never used before.

"I'll miss you, dad." Ron said hoarsely.

"Ronald…" Was all Mr. Weasley could manage. His voice was husky, and he seemed to be fighting the urge to cry. Ron held him tighter, and he sobbed lightly.

"Come back to me, Ron, please." Mr. Weasley said, tears breaking through the dam. Ron could only nod.

Like Ron, Hermione had stood in front of her mother for a few minutes before pulling her into a hug, sobbing as she made contact with her mother's warm body. Hermione could not manage a verbal goodbye to her mother. When her parents were in the camp, Hermione had worried that they would die before she could see them again; now she feared that she would die before she could see her mother again.

"Shhh…baby it's okay," Mrs. Granger whispered, making circles on Hermione's back again, "you'll return safe to us. I know you will." Hermione knew that her mother was trying to convince herself that it would be true, just as much as she was trying to convince Hermione. Hermione didn't care, though. All that mattered to Hermione was that she made sure her mother knew just how much she loved her. Hermione put her hands on her mother's face, and kissed her like she should have when they had been reunited at the camps.

"I love you, mommy." Was all that Hermione could sob out. Mrs. Granger grinned sadly. Hermione had not called her mommy since she was about six.

"Here, baby, this is for you." Mrs. Granger took out a photo that showed ten year old Hermione beside her mother and father at their favorite vacation spot in France. Hermione was having her cheeks kissed simultaneously by her parents.

"Thank you, mum." Hermione said softly, starting to sob once again, holding onto her mother. As she took the photo, Hermione's eyes caught Ron resting his head against Mrs. Weasley's bosom. His face was very red, and his cheeks looked a bit wet. She allowed herself to remain in her mother's embrace while Ginny made her goodbyes.

Ginny was having an even harder time than Hermione managing a verbal goodbye to her parents. Her father had sat down, too emotionally spent to remain standing, and Ginny had walked over, and as though she were still a six year old, climbed onto his lap and rested her head against his chest. As his arms went around her, she burst into tears. As he cuddled and kissed his daughter, Arthur Weasley reflected on her life. As her face became red from her sobs, he could remember like only yesterday taking the same red-faced, red-haired crying baby home from St. Mungo's, and now today, here she was, one year shy of being a woman, with a wonderfully formed body and soul, happy with her dream boyfriend, but now she had to go help defend the wizarding world from a man with a knack for making people miserable. Arthur Weasley didn't want her to go, though. Not that easily. He wanted to have just a few more nights to check under her bed for monsters, or play airborne tag with her on broomsticks like he used to when she was ten and her mother wasn't looking. No, he definitely didn't want her leaving, but he knew she had to.

It seemed that Ginny had no tears left to cry for her mother, but her hug was so strong that it seemed that every bone in Mrs. Weasley's body would break, and Ginny's kisses not only conveyed her deep, passionate, warm, reassuring love to her mother, but her fear, her sadness, her pain and her passion for goodness, her desire to bring peace and justice to the world, but most importantly, her fierce, fiery passion and loyalty to her family, Harry and Hermione. She did cry, however, as Mrs. Weasley began to softly sing to her the Muggle Italian song, 'Mattinata', which had been her favorite lullaby as a young child. Harry, who had been watching Ginny with wet eyes, marveled at Mrs. Weasley's perfect Italian.

Harry wondered if he could say goodbye. He had been trying all morning to resolve himself to the worst, so that he could keep a clear head, but as he watched, he realized just how much he loved them, and how much being separated from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and the twins would pain him. In fact, he began hoping that they would have reason to run into Bill or Charlie as they searched for the Horcruxes, and he immediately made a resolve to start opening up to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley if needed any sort of parental support.

Harry was just about to see if everyone was ready to go, when Tonks embraced him in a crushing hug, tears streaming from her eyes.

"You have to come back. Please come back, all of you. Stay safe and watch out for each other, you hear?" Harry nodded, as did the others. Harry then hugged Mrs. Weasley, amazed by her warmth. The only time he'd ever been hugged like this was back in his fourth year, by the very same wonderful person, as he had reflected on Cedric Diggory's death. Also like that time, he had to fight his tears, and wished that Ron would look away. Tentatively, he allowed himself to rest his head against Mrs. Weasley's, causing her to sob a little.

"Harry, I don't give a damn about blood," she said, her voice considerably constricted, "you are my son, and I love you like one. Please come back safe, okay?"

"I will." Harry promised, his voice unusually husky. He had never shared a hug with Mr. Weasley before, and was shocked at the equal warmth in his embrace.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley said, "I want to make sure that you understand that, as Molly just said, you are a son to us, no matter what blood runs in your veins, and we will gladly open up to you if you ever need us. Our thoughts and feelings belong as much to you as to Ginny and Ron, not to mention our hearts." Harry nodded, allowing a dry sob to escape, Mr. Weasley's words being some of the nicest words he'd ever heard.

After Harry had broken apart from Mr. Weasley, he slowly walked back over to the group, nodded once, and they all nodded back, and walked to the door. As he stepped over the threshold, Harry looked back at Tonks, Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley, etching the memory permanently into his head, absently noticing that Tonks had literally grown a few grey hairs. Harry then quickly caught up to everyone else, and put his finger on the Portkey Lupin had set up, as Lupin counted to three.

Horace Slughorn busied himself with the tea kettle as he prepared for breakfast. He whistled an imaginary tune to himself, trying hard, as most wizards did these days, to find happiness in something. Slughorn was a big fan of routine. Routine had, day in and day out, been a constant he could always count on when he needed to find something to take his mind off things, and he found comfort in routine, especially now, with the war on. A few moments later, his toast sprung out of the toaster, and with a sigh, he sat down and tucked into his meal, noticing the sun just poking its head over the horizon, when there was a knock on his door.

"Bit early for anyone to call, innit?" he muttered distractedly to himself, getting up again with another sigh. He opened the door and jumped back in shock, his eyes wide, goggling at the group on his doorstep.

"Remus! Harry, m' boy! What are you all doing here?"

"Well, if you let us in, we can explain it all." Lupin said.

"Naturally, naturally. Come in." Slughorn said, still staring at the group for a moment, his eyes lingering on Hermione and Ginny, whose eyes still bore the marks of the emotional parting earlier. Slightly embarrassed, Ron and Harry had kept their heads down to hide their puffy eyes.

"Well," Lupin said as everyone took seats at Slughorn's table, "basically we are here to start the hunt for…"

"It's true then?" Slughorn interrupted.

"What?" Lupin said, "how did you know?"

"It's all over the 'Daily Prophet'," Slughorn responded. "So…you are searching for you-know-who's Horcruxes, I take it. May I ask, then, why you've come to my house?" Lupin, however, was still looking shocked about the 'Daily Prophet' knowing about their quest.

"How did they get wind of this? It wasn't supposed to get out." Lupin said frowning. Slughorn shrugged.

"Most of the local population was after…no, on top of Minister Scrimgeour for answers," Slughorn responded, "he must have put out an official press release." Lupin nodded, though he shared an uneasy glance at Harry, both of whom did not want their quest to become public knowledge.

"So…will you please tell me what I'm supposed to be doing to help you?" Slughorn said, a bite of impatience in his voice.

"Oh, right." Lupin responded, caught with his thoughts elsewhere. "Do you still have that Acromantula venom you got from Hagrid's…er…friend Aragog when you attend Aragog's burial with Harry?" Slughorn shook his head, looking dispirited.

"Of course I still have it," He said, annoyed, "these days, no one buys anything from anybody who isn't 100 legitimate, but I could have used the money, believe me. My Hogwarts salary only gets me so much food, you know."

"Well, we're most certainly glad you have it, Horace," Lupin said, "for that is what I want to try using first to destroy Slytherin's locket. We have already obtained that one, though you probably knew that already from the Prophet, and then we'll use a curse to try and destroy that bit of Voldemort's soul." Slughorn's eyes went even wider than when he'd seen the group on his doorstep, and his face went pale.

"Remus…my dear boy…do you know…do you know just how powerful those types of curses have to be? They can kill the caster at times." Ginny gasped, staring at Slughorn and then at Harry, terrified. Once again, the atmosphere was very tense, and the silence was making everyone's eardrums pound.

"So…may we have the venom, Horace?" Lupin said hesitantly.

"I just hope you understand what you're getting yourself into." Slughorn muttered.

"Do you have an alternate idea?" Lupin asked, "we'll listen to you." Slughorn muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

"Just so you know, Remus, I've had to pickle and dilute the venom so that it will keep." Slughorn added as he left to fetch the venom. He returned a few minutes later, to find the group gathered around an old wooden end table Slughorn kept in his sitting room.

"Humph. I'm glad you're not using one of the tables I'm attached to," Slughorn said with a trace of a growl, "'cause I bet my leg you're going to end up destroying something." Lupin shook his head, trying to restrain himself from lecturing Slughorn on the importance of the Order's mission vs. a bit of furniture.

"May we have the venom, please, Horace?" Lupin asked, trying to remain sounding friendly. Slughorn held his arm out to Lupin, who took the venom, giving Slughorn a grateful smile.

"Now," he said, turning to Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione, "pay attention, you four, what we need to do is this: By pouring the venom over the locket, we should be able to melt the actual locket and force the fragment of Voldemort's soul out into the open, while someone will cast the destruction hex on the bit of soul. Now, as Horace just said, the curses, and no doubt the protection Voldemort himself placed over the locket, will all be very powerful, and may even put us on the verge of magical exhaustion, however, we can try to make our numbers work to our advantage, and back each other up." Lupin looked around at his charges. Harry was looking determined. His eyes shone bright, and his jaw was set. Ginny had her head bowed so that Harry would not be able to see the tears that radiated her fear coarse down her cheeks. Ron seemed almost in another world, and while Hermione looked just as determined as Harry, she refused to look at Ron, knowing what would happen if she did.

"So…shall we…?" Lupin's voice was hesitant as he held out the phial of Acromantula venom.

"I'll do it." Hermione said, squaring her shoulders. Before Ron could protest, she had gone over to where Lupin sat, taken the phial from him, and uncorked it. Hesitantly, she unwrapped the locket, and poised the phial over the locket, positioned as though she were toasting.

"Cheers." She said quietly to Harry with a small smile, and dumped the venom over the locket. What followed was one of the weirdest sensations Hermione had ever experienced. As the locket sizzled away under the power of the venom, Hermione herself felt as though thousands of invisible forceps were trying to extricate bricks or some other form of hard object out of every part of her body. Sweat cascaded down her forehead as she fought to maintain consciousness.

Ron watched the drama unfold as Hermione dumped the venom over the locket. It was terrifying to watch, as the locket almost literally seemed to writhe under the venom's power, but what was even more frightening was what it was doing to Hermione. It was obvious that she was in excruciating pain, and sweat was running down her forehead in rivers. He was watching her so intently that he did not see the locket dissolve into a haze of thick black smoke that somewhat resembled Voldemort. Suddenly, however, Hermione fainted, and at the same time, Ginny let out a scream as Harry cried out the destruction curse.

"_Eversio Soul_!!" Time had slowed to a crawl as the hex left Harry's wand. Ron was half-holding the unconscious Hermione as he watched Harry battle the soul fragment. As it seemed nothing was happening, Ron had to marvel that a torn piece of fragmented soul could put up so much of a defense. Suddenly, however, the soul seemed to start to move towards Harry. Harry's eyes glassed over, and as the soul moved toward him, he uttered a scream that sounded totally otherworldly. Ginny's face mirrored Ron's terror. Without really knowing what he was doing, Ron dived for his wand, pointing it at Voldemort's soul.

"**_EVERSIO SOUL_**!!" Seventeen years of hatred of Voldemort passed through the end of Ron's wand, making contact with the soul. Time froze as the bit of soul blew up. Shards of red flame extended like tendrils and disappeared into thin air, and then, just like that it was over.

Lupin surveyed the scene for a moment, and then buried his face in his hands, doubled up in silent sobs. Whiter than a ghost, Slughorn had passed out on his couch. Ginny was singing softly to the unconscious Harry as she held him against her breasts, while Ron held Hermione close to him, praying and hoping against hope that she was still alive, breathing her scent deeply. Her sweat had a very sweet odor to it.

"Please, Hermione…don't be dead…I love you…I love you…don't be dead…I'll die without you…please, wake up, Mione, please…" Ron pleaded in a continuous whisper, trying and failing to stifle his tears. He pulled her into a hug, using all the force he could muster. Finally, Hermione seemed to be coming round, and returned Ron's embrace, causing him to weep harder.

"Shhh, Ron, sweetheart, I'm here. I'm okay, love, I'm okay." It appeared that Harry, too, had come round, as he was hugging Ginny who was weeping in relief, while Harry whispered similar words of comfort to Ginny.

Once Slughorn had come round, he had agreed to Lupin's proposition that the group camp out in his backyard for the night, and then they would break camp the following morning for Kent, where Slughorn believed he might have a lead on a Ravenclaw artifact that Lupin and Harry had decided might be worthy of examining as a Horcrux.

"His name is Carl Barrett," Slughorn had explained, about his friend, "and he is essentially a Muggle, however his father had a squib grandmother, and Carl is a rock musician, so he kinda is like you-know-who when it comes to trophies, and he says that his great-grandmother had given him a sort of crucifix that resembled an eagle tied to a spear or something like that."

"You think it's Ravenclaw's then?" Lupin asked.

"I don't know for certain," Slughorn responded, "but I remember reading about how Ravenclaw was the most religious of the four founders and was very fond of crucifixes. You should also know that there is solid proof of the fact that the only known relic of Godric Gryffindor is his sword, because he had cast a very complex spell over his basement, where he kept all of his stuff of value, which allowed only the child of…I think it was the fifteenth generation…of his bloodline to open it, and I feel pretty confident that you-know-who, however extraordinarily magically powerful and resourceful he may be, cannot get to Gryffindor's basement." Lupin nodded appreciatively, and had then bid Slughorn goodnight, and followed Harry out to the tent.

Once the group had gotten settled into the tent, Harry went into the kitchen of the tent, and dug out some rations. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Ron had sat down at the table. Ron looked at Hermione and felt an anger bubble up inside him that he could not quite explain.

"Why did you go ahead with pouring the venom on the locket?" Ron asked icily. Hermione was taken aback by Ron's coolness.

"Erm…someone had to do it, right?" she said very hesitantly.

"You didn't even ask me if I was alright with it!" Ron roared.

"I'm not a child…" Hermione started, feeling her own anger bubbling a bit.

"Well you sure act like one!" Ron retorted loudly, "you went ahead and worked the venom, even though you knew full well what it might do to you. I know you knew Hermione, but all you thought about was you! You nearly died, but couldn't be bothered to even check with your own fiancée about how I felt about it!" Ron grabbed his meal from Harry and stormed off to another room to eat alone, Hermione watching him with tears threatening to fall.

After the group had eaten a meal of nearly indigestible dried pork and tinned milk, everyone was getting ready for bed. Ron had already fallen asleep and Harry and Lupin quickly followed suit, but Hermione and Ginny remained awake. Hermione moved over and sat down by a window, while Ginny gave the snoring Harry a rather physical goodnight.

"Hey, Hermione, you…er…okay?" Ginny said, coming up beside Hermione.

"Is that a rhetorical question, Gin?"

"Er…no."

"Let's see…I just helped destroy a bit of a madman's soul, and nearly went through magical exhaustion, my fiancée was speaking daggers to me afterward, cause I nearly died, my back is all knotted up and…" she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the photograph her mother had given her "…I don't know if I'll ever see my mother again, so yeah, I'm okay." Hermione's fist came down on the canvas window frame.

"Would you like me to rub your back?" Ginny asked, positioning her hands to massage Hermione's back.

"What? Oh…oh, yes please do, thanks." Hermione said, gratefully. She reached up and took her shirt off, baring her back for Ginny, who gently kneaded her fists into Hermione's back, who sighed contentedly.

"Ahh, that's much better, Gin, thanks." Hermione said, visibly relaxing.

"Why does Ron have to be so…so…cold?" Hermione asked sadly, looking at Ron's back as it marked the time of his breathing.

"Because he's scared." Ginny said simply. "You are, without question, the most important thing that has happened to him, and to loose you would probably be his worst nightmare, and anger seems to be his way of showing his relief mixed with his fear. You know, for the last few years, I almost started to wish that Hogwarts allowed students to stay over the summer, because Ron has been keeping up a steady stream of, shall we say, 'Hermione-isms' for the last few summers…" she dropped her voice a couple octaves in an uncanny imitation of Ron " …'did I mention that Hermione…' '…Hermione told me…' '…if I get a hold of Viktor Krum, I swear I'll…' '…You know what, I think Hermione's a goddess! She just helped me with all my potions homework!' '…I'm gonna get her, I'm gonna steal Hermione away from Krum…' '…if Hermione was my girlfriend…' '…I just want to snog Hermione…' I can't believe it took him this long to ask you to marry him!" Hermione laughed.

"Er…he and I, we…that is to say…we…we…did it last night." Hermione said tentatively. Ginny's jaw, and her hands, dropped.

"You did?" Ginny said squeakily, "you and my thick brother?"

"Yes."

"Was he safe?"

"Yes, but I wish he hadn't been."

"Hermione!!"

"What?" Hermione said, annoyed.

"How…how could you…wish for that? I mean, doing it with Harry was probably the best moment of my life, and I want to be a mother like nothing else, too, but I don't think the middle of a war is the best time to be with child!"

"But what if he dies?" Hermione rebutted, "I don't have anything to remember him by…I just want someone that I could love if he did die…I just thought if I carried his child…you know…" Her voice faded away. Ginny resumed massaging Hermione, but was now using more force than necessary, her eyes wide.

"Well this is a surprise," Ginny commented, "our rational, cool, levelheaded Hermione makes her first irrational decision." Ginny chuckled. "Ron would be proud." Hermione, however, didn't seem amused, and she now looked out the window with a decidedly wistful expression.

"Ron was the best thing that happened to me, too." Hermione said after a few moments of silence. "I never thought of anyone the way I thought of him…not to mention that I never seemed to be able to flirt or do anything that would turn any other guy on. I never used to play chess with dad, either, but I think he probably wished that Hogwarts students could stay over the summer, too, because I would take every opportunity to pester him to show me every little detail of the game so I could beat Ron." Ginny smiled.

"You feel better?" She asked, removing her fists.

"Much better, thanks." Hermione responded, her glance once again resting on Ron's chest as it rose and fell with his breathing.

"I love him, Gin. I love him so much. All I want to do is spend my life with him, and raise children with him, squabble over work and whether or not to have Muggle devices in our house. I don't care if we have one child or twelve, I don't care if we only have one Knut to our name in Gringott's, I just want to wake up in his arms every day from today until the day I die."

"I know," Ginny said quietly, putting her arm around Hermione's shoulder, "I feel the same way about Harry. That's why we're out here in the first place, risking our lives. We do it because we want to raise our kids, not to the light, but in it. For the sake of our happiness, we need to be rid of you-know…I mean, V-V-Voldemort."

"Ginny!" Hermione said, sounding impressed, "you said his name!"

"Probably because I'm so tired." Ginny replied cheekily, "now come on, let's go to bed. Our knights in shining armor are waiting…though I'm not sure they know it…and I swear the sky's gotten a couple shades lighter." Hermione nodded, feeling a bit better, and went over to Ron, and snuggled up to him. The moment his snores reached her ears, she drifted off into a warm, deep sleep. Ginny had snuggled herself in between Harry and Lupin, and had fallen asleep before she had time to completely snuggle Harry, whose snores made Ginny feel safe and comforted. For now, she could just enjoy his company, without worrying about what was coming with the dawn.

11


	18. Chapter 18: In Trouble in Kent

EIGHTEEN: In Trouble in Kent

The group awoke that morning at five thirty the next morning. Though the tent Lupin had packed was not the one PLAT-O had lived in Devon, it was still Ministry-issue, and while a little bit more posh than the platoon tent, it still had many of the features that seemed to be standard on Ministry tents, including the bell outside. The bell, however, Lupin had charmed both to go off at five thirty in the morning, and sound like a rooster crowing.

"So that it sounds like home." He had said, grinning at the others.

"Icin't b'lieve iss mr'ning 'lready." Ron grumbled, hearing the Rooster-bell.

"And a very good morning to you, too." Hermione responded playfully.

"I've got a pot on," Lupin said, already fully dressed, "who wants a mug of coffee?"

"Me." Everyone said. Lupin grinned, and returned to the kitchen area of the tent, and returning with coffee and eggs. Hermione took her plate and mug from Lupin, who was playing server, with a word of thanks, and sat down, joined after a minute by Ron, who seemed uncomfortable about something. He refrained from speaking for a few minutes, shifting his weight around and glancing nervously at Hermione. Finally, he spoke.

"Mione," he said hesitantly, "I'm sorry for how I treated you last night. I mean, I'm really, really sorry, I don't know what came over me, I just…" Grinning, Hermione put a finger to his lips to silence his rambling.

"Shhh, Ron, you don't need to apologize. I understand why you did it."

"No, I do need to apologize." Ron said stubbornly, "my conduct was inexcusable. I was just so scared of loosing you."

"Hmm..." Hermione responded in mock thoughtfulness, "how can I prove to you that I don't hold any hostile feelings towards you…ah, yes…allow me…" she moved in and kissed Ron, deep, passionately and full of love. She broke from the kiss and looked at Ron in the eye, her face serious.

"You'll never loose me, Ron." She said softly, cradling Ron's head in her hands, brushing his cheeks with her thumbs. "It'll take more than _Voldy_…" she enunciated the name with all the sarcasm and hateful disdain she could muster "…to keep me away from my husband."

"Are you sure?" Ron asked his voice cracking.

"Yes." Hermione said, kissing Ron again. Ron smiled weakly.

"By Merlin, I don't know how I could survive without your love, Mione." Ron said. "I can't do your love justice; I can't love you enough."

"Yes you can, Ron, and you do." Hermione said sincerely. "Your reaction yesterday proved that."

"I'm sorry to have to butt in," Lupin said apologetically, "but we need to run over a few things before we break camp for Kent. Basically, I just want to stress that we must be cautious. I'm starting to think that actually finding the Horcruxes will not be the difficult part of our journey, but rather avoiding the Death Eaters who will be out after our blood. Therefore, while I think that we will probably not be recognized by the people in Kent, we still aught to go incognito."

"So…a chance to put all of the Metamorphomagi stuff that Tonks was teaching me to practical use." Harry said dryly.

"Yes," Lupin said, "I think it best that we try to take on the appearance of a Muggle rock band when we pay Carl Barrett a visit. If he does have a squib great-grandmother, though, it might be fair to assume that he knows who you are, Harry, so your disguise is all the more important." Harry grinned.

"No problem. Dudley was always a big fan of rock music, so I know what they look like." Harry said. Lupin nodded.

"I suggest you go get…er…changed, then." He said. Harry nodded and left, while Lupin distributed rock and roll type clothing to Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Harry, meanwhile, had transformed himself into "Johnny", the star rock and roll musician.

Harry had not altered his height much; only by a few inches, but he had changed his physique so that he looked much leaner and more wry, making him look much taller than he actually was. His hair was now a shoulder length blonde tangled matte that looked artfully unkempt, and he wore a sleeveless shirt and sported many tattoos, including, as a tribute to Ginny's sense of humor, a Hungarian Horntail across his chest.

He came back into the living room area of the tent to find the others now dressed in rock and roll garb. Ginny was picking at her tight clothes.

"These clothes are way too bloody revealing." She muttered. Indeed, Harry had never seen either Ginny or Hermione in such tight clothes. Both girls sported tight shorts that barely extended beyond their pelvises, and Hermione had a shirt on that only just come up to under her arms. Ron and Lupin, on the other hand, had clothes that were far too loose, and artfully torn.

"Wow, Harry!" Ron said, having noticed Harry for the first time.

"Actually, it's Johnny now." Harry said, noticing that his voice had changed along with his physical features. It was now husky and crackly, suggesting a chain smoker who complimented his cigarettes with other more potent drugs. _Typical Muggle rock artist_, Harry thought dryly.

"All set?" Lupin asked, "all right, let's break camp." With a few waves of everyone's wands, the tent, and everyone's clothing had been packed in their rucksacks. With his wand, Lupin extracted a brick from the wall of Slughorn's shed, and conjured a replacement, then proceeded to turn the brick into a Portkey, taking them to Kent.

It was still very early in the morning when they had arrived in the town, and it was still quite dark, but even so, everyone could tell that something was out of place. The air was much colder than it had been back at Slughorn's house, and there was something about the sky that didn't seem right. Mainly the fact that there were no stars, nor were there clouds in the sky. Yet there was something that was giving off a glow.

"Ooh, look Harry!" Ginny said in an awed whisper, "the aurora borealis!" Harry looked where she was indicating, and did indeed see a bit of green in the sky that resembled the Northern Lights phenomenon, and he felt a sense of relief starting to tug at him, but as he looked closer at the green mass, his breath caught in his throat.

It wasn't the aurora borealis he was looking at, it was the Dark Mark. Ginny gasped as she too came to realize what it was. Ron gripped Hermione's hand as he stared at it.

"Wands out." Lupin whispered urgently. The group followed his orders, not really caring about the statue of secrecy right now, and whatever other laws were in place to guard against Muggles being exposed to magic. Something had happened here, and the sight of the mark proved that. Blessing the early hour, Lupin led the group towards the center of town, looking for the area where Slughorn had said Carl Barrett's house was located. Meanwhile, he kept glancing over his shoulder, his senses doubly acute for any unordinary sounds.

They were thankful to have reached number 95 unscathed, though it left the group feeling uneasy. It appeared that Death Eaters were present in Kent, so why had they so obligingly left the group alone, when it wouldn't have been hard for a Death Eater to cast a few charms in the air to alert them to enemy activity? Putting those questions aside, at a nod from Lupin, Harry proceeded to ring Barrett's doorbell. No answer. Harry rung again, leaning on the buzzer to suggest that the group was in a hurry.

"All right, all right, I'll answer the bleeding door!" A man's voice roared from inside. The door flew open, and Harry found himself face to face with a man who looked a lot like him in his disguise as "Johnny", except that his hair was a total tangle of curly black that rivaled Harry's own black. He was very wild-looking, and most certainly pissed at the early call.

"Mr. Carl Barrett?" Harry asked, trying to sound diplomatic, "I'm Johnny Cork, and this is my band, The Corktones. This is our guitarist, Red, our drummer Roger, and our lovely vocalists, Hanna and Janie, or as they are better known, 'Melody' and 'Harmony'." Harry said, indicating Ron, Lupin, Hermione and Ginny respectively.

"Forgive us for calling so early," Harry continued, "but our manager asked a couple of favors of you. First, Red's been on our case to hire another guitarist, as he thinks that two guitars allows for more musical possibilities, as I'm just a bassist, and he also wants us to…appraise your collection of trophies. I think he wants to buy some off of you."

"Sell my pearls?! Never!" Carl Barrett roared.

"We understand your attachment to your trophies," Harry went on, "and so does Mr. Takei, our manager. He asked me to give you this letter. There is one trophy in your possession that we believe belongs to his family" Harry pulled out of his pants pocket a piece of paper that appeared to be blank. Carl Barrett read the paper carefully, his brow furrowed in thought. When he looked up again, his eyes seemed to be slightly out of focus.

"Yes, this all seems in order." Barrett said, indicating the paper, "Please come in." Harry followed him, trailed by the others. With his back to them, he did not notice their looks of utter astonishment.

"Breakfast?" Barrett asked them as they passed his kitchen.

"Thank you, but we've already had some." Harry responded.

"Oh." Barrett replied. "Come on, then, my collection is in here." He led the group into a sitting room, and stopped by an antique glass fronted cabinet, behind which were a few shelves of various trophies. Musical awards, fishing awards, trinkets and other collector's items. Harry scanned the cabinet, looking for a specific item. Finally, nestled in between two awards from two years, voting Barrett as sexiest male musician was the eagle on a spear that Slughorn had mentioned. Harry pointed it out to his comrades.

"That's it," Lupin whispered in awe, "that's Rav—Mr. Takei's—heirloom." Harry had to step on Lupin's foot to keep him from mentioning Ravenclaw's name.

"So…may we take this?" Harry said, indicating the trinket.

"I won't accept anything less than ₤400 for it." Barrett said.

"We'll see to it that Mr. Takei gets you the check as soon as possible." Harry assured him. Reluctantly, Barrett retreated to his room, found the key to the cabinet, returned and unlocked it, and handed the trinket to Harry with a little trepidation. Harry, thanking him most profusely, pocketed the trinket. The whole group then made their way to the door, opened it, and froze.

At least fifty or more Death Eaters stood facing them on the doorstep.

"Kill the Muggle!" The Death Eater in front roared. Another one cast the curse, causing Carl Barrett to crumple and his house to erupt in flames. Ginny let out a squeak of terror, which caused the Death Eaters to chuckle amongst themselves.

"Now we'll take y--" The prominent Death Eater started. Harry, however, sensing danger, pulled out his wand. With a deafening boom, an explosion went off somewhere within the middle of the Death Eater group, effectively causing enough pandemonium within the Death Eater group to open up a window of escape for Harry and the others. Though he knew he had cast the spell, Harry was not sure what spell he had cast, or why, but it seemed that, these days, when confronted by danger that left him and his companions in mortal peril, he seemed to make use of magic in unimaginable ways. Yet this was not the time to muse on that. He had created a diversion, they needed to use it.

"RUN!!" He bellowed at his mates. The five pelted down the "aisle" that Harry had "created" with his unknown spell, but the Death Eaters had cottoned on pretty quick, and though the group had put good distance between the Death Eaters and themselves, and safety was visible, the Death Eaters had started firing curses at them, one of which hit Ginny in the small of her back. She gave a squeal of pain, and dropped to the ground.

"GINNY!" Harry roared running back to her. Without thinking, he scooped her up, and made a dash for where Lupin and the others were waiting, their wands out, looking deathly anxious. As soon as Harry had rejoined them, the unconscious Ginny in his arms, Lupin proceeded to cast Dark-deflecting wards around the group, while Ron charmed a branch into a Portkey, and Hermione cast a disillusionment charm and an anti-apparition charm in quick succession, and then joined Harry in putting a finger on the branch. Harry held Ginny close to him, as Lupin activated the Portkey without even bothering to count.

They arrived at a deserted moor just outside of Kent. Lupin cast various spells to make certain that they were in a Death Eater free zone. When it was determined that they were, he magically erected the tent as quickly as possible. As soon as the tent was up, Harry ran inside, and gently lay Ginny down, tears of fright and worry running silently down his cheeks.

"Ginny, please, please wake up, please." Harry pleaded softly. "Please be alive, _please_!" Lupin crossed the room, and pressed his fingers to a spot on Ginny's neck.

"It's all right, Harry, I've got a pulse," Lupin said in a soft, reassuring voice, "but…" he hesitated "…I don't know what that Death Eater used on her, and I think she's in a coma."

"Gin…a coma? My sister…a coma?" Ron said, only somewhat intelligibly, "What do we do?" Lupin stroked his chin, where stubble was beginning to form.

"We can't keep her here, I'm afraid," Lupin said, "I'm sorry Harry, but she needs immediate medical care, and we do not have the resources to care for her." Harry nodded, and without really thinking, pulled out his wand.

"_Expecto Patronum_." Harry said, his voice betraying how drained he felt. His Stag Patronus regarded him.

"Find one of the Weasleys, preferably Fred or George, and tell them that Gin's in…injured." He had to swallow a rather painful lump in his throat. The Patronus disappeared, and only a few minutes later, both Fred and George had apparated into the tent.

"Sweet Merlin, what happened?" George asked, staring at his baby sister's limp body and going pale.

"What're we going to do? Mum's having kittens." Fred said.

"I think that for the time being, you should take her to St. Mungo's," Lupin said, "have your mother meet you there." Fred nodded, his face grim, and conjured up his own Patronus and told it to tell Mrs. Weasley what was going on, while George scooped up Ginny into his arms.

"Kinda reminds me of when mum would let us hold her when she was a baby." Fred said sadly, looking at George and Ginny.

"Yeah, except she was conscious then." George replied.

"Well, I guess we're off." Fred said, sighing. "Don't worry, Harry, we'll keep you up to date on her condition." He gave the group a sad wave, and disapparated with George. After they had gone, Lupin looked at Harry, who had not said a word, but looked terrible. He was pale, sweaty and clammy.

"I'm sorry, Harry…are you going to be okay?" Lupin said concernedly. Harry nodded, but left the tent a few minutes later to be sick. Ron also left, and Lupin and Hermione could hear him bellowing all sorts of very colorful words to the night sky. Lupin made to go to Ron, perhaps to try and comfort and relax him, but Hermione held him back.

"Don't," she advised him, "he needs to get it out of his system." Lupin nodded, and instead busied himself with the rations for the night. A few minutes later, both boys had returned to the tent.

"I've got dinner done. Anyone want any food?" Ron and Hermione said yes, but Harry shook his head.

"Not hungry." He mumbled, but sat down at the table anyway. "I knew something like this would happen," he muttered gloomily, "I _knew _it, but even so, I let her come along. I shouldn't have let her come along!"

"Harry…" Hermione began bracingly, but he cut her off.

"I _shouldn't have let her come_!!" He said, more forcefully.

"Harry, listen to me," Hermione said, still bracingly, but also more forcefully, "you did the right thing in allowing Ginny to come. Your love has, and always will protect her, and the two of you acting on your feelings for each other has definitely made you stronger."

"She nearly died, Hermione," Harry said, beginning to cry, "thank you for trying to cheer me up, but I'm not any stronger for what I did. I'm going to bed. Good night everyone." And he stomped off to the sleeping area.

It was Ron's turn to stay awake after everyone else had gone to bed. He looked at Harry and Hermione's sleeping bodies and reflected on the things each had said. Like Harry, he was grieving for Ginny, terrified of what would happen to her now, but he had also thought long and hard about what Hermione said, and he agreed with her. He didn't know if his agreement stemmed from his love for her or not, but every time he watched her chest rise and fall in time to her breathing, not only was he turned on by the movement itself, especially where her breasts were concerned, but he knew immediately what she had meant about how being around your loved ones making you stronger. He felt much stronger around her, and like she had said only just the same morning, it would definitely take more than _Voldy_ to keep him from Hermione.

Grinning, he lay down beside her, cuddled up to her, and moved a few locks of hair out of her face, listened to her soft snores for a few moments, and as he gazed at her tightly shut eyes, fell asleep.

7


	19. Chapter 19: A Little Fall of Rain

NINETEEN: A Little Fall of Rain…

Arthur and Molly Weasley were already at St. Mungo's when Fred and George apparated into the admitting room. Upon taking one look at Ginny's body, Mrs. Weasley burst into tears, relieving her from George, and taking a seat, hugging Ginny to her, trying to whisper something, anything to Ginny that would make her come round, while Mr. Weasley and the twins tried their best to explain Ginny's condition to the receptionist, though a combination of grief and lack of information made the task difficult. The usually bored, cool receptionist, however, had to only take one look at Ginny's limp, pale body, and Mrs. Weasley's reaction, and nearly forty-five years of working as a receptionist for St. Mungo's kicked in.

"Orderly," she barked, "get a stretcher and get this girl into room 111 and contact Healer Greene. Now!" A young Healer-in-training hastened to obey, conjuring up a stretcher and took Ginny towards room 111, followed by the others.

"I'm terribly sorry," he said apologetically, "but I'm afraid you can't come into the room until the Healer has approved your visit." Fred, George and Mrs. Weasley broke out in a storm of protest.

"We're family!" Fred and George said together indignantly. "Why can't we be with our sister?!"

"I'm sorry, but Miss Weasley here is a top level case, and I cannot admit anyone not approved…"

"If a patient's family is not allowed to stay with them while being diagnosed, I'll have plenty to say to your board of directors!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed, easily shaming the twins' volume. The young man looked at them sympathetically.

"I'm sorry," he said, still apologetic, but more forcefully, "but orders are orders." Mr. Weasley looked at the group. Mrs. Weasley had tears coursing down her cheeks, but she also looked ready to kill, as did the twins, but Mr. Weasley had also seen a shadow of equal stubbornness on the young orderly's face. Sighing, he decided to play their last card. He knew Harry would kill him if he knew, but it was their only chance.

"Actually, she's a Potter." Mr. Weasley told the orderly.

"I beg your pardon?" the orderly asked politely.

"You referred to our daughter as 'Miss Weasley'," Mr. Weasley explained, "but over Christmas, Harry Potter proposed to my daughter, and she accepted."

"Really?"

"Yes. Now, if you please, we wish to be with our daughter while she is diagnosed." It had worked. Though Harry hated it, he had a lot of pull with most Wizards and Witches because of his fame for Lord Voldemort's defeat when he was a baby, and though he didn't do it very often, he could bend people to his will because of it, and the orderly, after learning that Ginny was almost 'Mrs. Harry Potter', had deflated, and allowed the Weasleys to accompany him to room 111.

They had just entered the room when a pop heralded the arrival of someone apparating into the room.

Harry stood a few feet away from George, looking bewildered and lost, not to mention scared—scared beyond anything that any of the Weasleys present had ever seen him.

"I'm afraid I cannot allow…" the orderly began, but faltered under a withering gaze from Fred, George and Mr. Weasley, that clearly spoke 'Harry has as much right to be here as anyone else, so sod off'.

Just then, Healer Bartholomew Greene entered the room, and took no notice of the guests, but merely proceeded to go over to Ginny, and pulling out his wand, muttered various charms and trying different hexes, all to what appeared, at least to Harry and the Weasleys, to no avail. Finally, he muttered a specific incantation, and a projection of Ginny's skeleton hovered a few feet above her body, lined up perfectly with its corporeal counterpart. In spite of his nerves and fear, Harry had to grin. Ginny had a _very _cute skeleton, just like the rest of her.

"Hmmm…hmmm…odd…yes, very odd." Healer Greene muttered many times over, examining the projection, occasionally muttering incantations and pointing his wand at the projection. The tension that emanated from the group, especially Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, was palpable. Finally, Mrs. Weasley broke the silence.

"Erm…what's odd?" she asked, softly but urgently. Healer Greene pointed his wand at the skeleton-projection, so that it assumed a vertical position. Embedded within the skeleton were projections of all of Ginny's organs. Healer Greene pointed them out.

"As far as I can tell," he explained, "is that while Miss Weasley here is in a coma, it would seem that no damage has been inflicted on her, other than where the curse struck her, and we have already fixed that. Nevertheless, all her organs, including her brain, are in perfect working order."

"What do we do for her?" Mr. Weasley asked shakily.

"All I can suggest is that you take her home, and keep her under constant observation. As she is not conscious, however, but still functioning, she will require feeding, and as she appears to have no control over her body, per se, it would be wise to assume incontinence as well. I am also prescribing a potion that should help deal with her comatose state. Take this to the receptionist when you leave." He handed Mr. Weasley a prescription note.

"When can we take her home?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Today, if you like," Healer Greene responded, "I do not think that there is anything specific we can do for her right now, however I would be very happy and appreciative if you owled me regularly with updates." Both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley nodded.

"Let's go home, guys." Fred said, while George moved in to pick up Ginny again, but Harry stopped them.

"Guys, can I have a few minutes alone with her, please?" Harry asked softly. Neither Healer Greene, nor Fred or George seemed keen on the idea, but when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had seen the pain in his eyes, they quietly shuttled everyone else out. Harry thanked them with a wave, and approached Ginny's bed, almost wishing that he were in a Muggle hospital. He could have used the company of the whistles and beeps of Muggle healthcare machinery; the breathless silence in room 111 was creepy to put it mildly. Harry slowly approached the side of Ginny's bed.

"Ginny…" how on earth was he supposed to say what he had to? It tore Harry's heart to see the woman he loved so helpless and fragile. He doubted she could hear what he was saying, but he said it anyway. "I don't know what to say, Ginny. I don't think 'I love you' is even the right thing to say to you right now. I do love you Ginny, and right now, I think I'm about as scared as I've ever been in my life. You have to be okay. Promise me you'll be okay, please. I know we're not supposed to communicate with each other while me, Moony and the others are searching for the Horcruxes, but sod that rule, Ginny, I want to hear from you every day, even if you can't write to me, I still want to hear from you, okay? Please understand, too Ginny, that I don't want you coming back to help me search. I miss you already Gin, and I love you. I promise you, we will get married the second Voldemort is dead. Ron and Hermione are right, Ginny, nothing, not even _Voldy _is going to keep me from you."

Harry bent down and kissed Ginny's nose. It was still beautifully warm and soft. Tears now spilling down his face, he kissed her on the lips, his nose touching hers. As he caressed her still warm and soft cheek, he stepped back, conjuring up a Patronus to let the others know he was done, and disapparated back to the campsite.

When Harry had arrived back at the campsite, he noticed Lupin sitting outside the tent, stoking the fire as the sun set. He appeared to be waiting for Harry. He did not smile as Harry sat down, maintaining his pensive look.

"Harry…" Lupin began hesitantly

"I don't want to talk about Ginny, Moony." Harry said bluntly.

"I wasn't going to talk about her, though I know myself and the others will want to know sooner than later how she is."

"What _do _you want to talk about, then?" Harry said impatiently, desperate to be alone for a while.

"That was some…er…impressive wandless magic you used back there at Carl Barrett's house earlier." Lupin said.

"Er…thanks." Harry said, caught unawares by Lupin's comment.

"I'm not complimenting you, Harry. I'm worried about you. I don't think Voldemort, or even Dumbledore could achieve what you have done lately, Harry. You have shown otherworldly powers here Harry. Your shield casting ability when we were at the hospital, the wandless magic to get Barrett to agree to give us the Horcrux and then the diversion bomb you cast later. Don't get me wrong, Harry, all that is good, and has worked to our advantage, but it makes me uneasy."

"Why?" Harry now felt very confused. "You said yourself when you and Tonks were teaching me all that Auror stuff that I was very good at it all."

"And therein is my problem," Lupin said. "It's almost like you're _too _good, Harry. You'll forgive me, but your school records have not been exemplary. I just fear that we might be seeing too much of a good thing where your powers are concerned. Voldemort may try to use your powers against you."

"He can do that?"

"Yes. I just wanted to make you aware that I am a bit uneasy."

"Well, I guess I'll have to mind myself." Harry said. Lupin nodded.

"Thank you, Harry." Lupin, now sensing Harry's desire to be alone, withdrew into the tent. Harry himself slouched down beside the fire and stared at the last rays of sun as they disappeared over the hill.

When he had looked at the same rays after he and Ginny had made love by the pond at the Burrow, the deep hues of red and dark orange had seemed so unbelievably magical and beautiful, and the first star that Harry had seen on the same occasion had twinkled so merrily and brightly that it had vividly reminded him of a Muggle painting he had seen at his cat-loving squib neighbor Mrs. Figg's house. The painting was 'The Starry Night' by the Muggle painter Vincent Van Gogh. It had been the only non-cat related bit of artwork Mrs. Figg had owned.

Tonight, though, with Ginny lying in a coma, the rays of sun looked like useless blobs of color that hurt Harry's eyes. The red flowed in a way though, that Harry was reminded of Ginny's hair when she ran to him, or was airborne on her broomstick. He could still see her look of elation every time Gryffindor won a Quidditch match, her hair still flying in every direction as she celebrated. The first star that night did not twinkle whatsoever, and rather than remind Harry of the painting, he was reminded of the way Uncle Vernon's eyes would light up when he was in a particularly evil mood against Harry, and the pitiless, yet noticeably bright eyes of Voldemort. Harry closed his eyes against the pain and anger surging through him and spoke to the cold star.

"You're going to pay," Harry said icily, "You're going to pay, _Voldy_. You're going to pay for what you've done to me, my family and my friends."

Arthur, Molly, Fred and George Weasley had returned from St. Mungo's with the unconscious, comatose Ginny. With help from her husband, Mrs. Weasley had gotten Ginny into her nightgown and into a pair of the adult diapers the St. Mungo's receptionist had provided to help with Ginny's incontinence. The four sat there, sadly observing her for a long while. Finally, Mr. Weasley and the twins went back downstairs to get dinner, asking Mrs. Weasley if she wanted to join them. With eyes only for her daughter, Mrs. Weasley had declined, wanting only to spend time with her baby, wishing she could share Ginny's thoughts and know what was wrong.

_Ginny stood in a hall of pure white. She appeared to be in a castle, but the light swam strangely, causing the features of the castle to be hard to determine, but it strongly reminded her of a castle her mother often spoke about in the bedtime stories she would read to her as a child._

_"Ginny…Ginny…" She could not pinpoint the voice, but it had an odd, echolike, ethereal sound to it, and appeared to be emanating from a mass that looked familiar, and bore the general shape of a human, but like the castle, seemed to constantly swim around. The black top of the form was all black and made her remember something, or somebody, but couldn't place the memory. In a very, almost unreal, fluid motion, the figure beckoned her forward. Try as she might, she could not seem to follow the figure that beckoned her, but now she realized why the figure looked familiar._

_"Harry…Harry…" She was not certain that she had spoken, or thought, the words, but she certainly heard them, her voice sounding in the same distant ethereal tones._

_The scene shifted after a bit, and while she was still surrounded by white lights, the castle walls became less defined, but she could tell that she was in a small room with no windows or doors to speak of, except for one with a very small barred window that looked a bit like a prison cell door to a 18th century castle or cathedral which showed an identical room. The endlessness of the room was very haunting. She found that she was able to move now, however her movements felt like she was dragging an anchor behind her. Slowly she approached the door and looked in. The figure that so resembled Harry was staring back at her. She could not tell what he was saying, but she knew he was speaking, for the movement of his lips suggested speech. However, as he began to turn, she could lip read a very specific word: 'Goodbye'._

_The Harry-figure started to walk away. She was desperate to follow. Suddenly, the floor on the Harry-figure's side of the room seemed to disappear and he fell. She tried with all her might to enter his room, but there was no door handle. The only option was to attempt to break through the bars. Her hands moved as slowly as her feet, but eventually she managed. Nevertheless, it was too late. The Harry-figure was gone, and she was just in another room with no windows or doors. She slumped down onto the floor as if to cry, but all she could feel was the intense burning of every nerve in her body. The burning was her grief that she was not able to put to tears, and she remained in a coma, surrounded by mysterious white._

Mr. Weasley had ended up bringing Mrs. Weasley her dinner on a tray, and sat down beside her, as both silently and sadly observed their unconscious daughter, wondering when she would come round, and what she had done to deserve this pain.

"Let's go to bed, Molly." Mr. Weasley said at last. Mrs. Weasley nodded, and bent over to kiss Ginny.

"I love you, sugar. Let me know if you need anything." Mrs. Weasley said softly in Ginny's ear, fully aware that Ginny could not ask for her help if she needed it. Choking back her imminent tears, she followed Mr. Weasley out of the room, and snuggled in with him in their bed. As he embraced her warmly, she let her tears fall. He gently rocked her as she fell asleep in his comforting, warm embrace.


	20. Chapter 20: Of Cups and Caring

TWENTY: Of cups and caring

Harry slept fitfully that night. Though he tried to fall asleep, it was pointless. Every time he closed his eyes, he was accosted with visions of beautiful red hair flying around the heart stoppingly beautiful face of Ginny Weasley. After tossing and turning for a few minutes, he quietly got up and left the tent, slumping down in front of the tent, trying to sort out his emotions. For the first time he could think of, he was jealous of Ron and Hermione. He knew that the chances of something happening to either of them was just as likely, but of course, what did happen, once again, had to happen to the one closest to _him_! He, Harry Potter, once again had to stand by as the one closest to his heart was hurt at Voldemort's hand. A hatred that he thought could not intensify any most certainly had. Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice Ron come up and sit down beside him, lighting the fire with his wand.

"Hi, Harry." Ron said quietly, snapping Harry out of his thoughts, "are you okay?"

"Well…I was just…thinking."

"About my sister, perhaps?"

"Yes." Harry said glumly. Ron studied his best mate.

"How is she?" Ron asked.

"All the Healer could say is that while she's in a coma, all of her organs are in perfect working order." Harry replied. Ron furrowed his brow in confusion, not understanding how his sister could be in a coma, but still have her organs functioning all right. He put those thoughts aside, however, as he realized just how much his best friend was hurting.

"Harry," Ron said quietly, "I'm worried about Ginny as well, and scared for her, but you have to know, Harry, that I know she will be okay."

"Ron, no offense, but I really don't want to be told that Ginny will make it. It's just not possible."

"Don't say that!" Ron admonished, "she will make it. Don't forget, I'm her older brother, and I know things about her that you most likely don't."

"How is that supposed to make me feel better?" Harry asked irritably.

"Harry, please listen to me," Ron said surely, "When Ginny was three, she caught Dragon Pox from Charlie. He had just come back from working with dragons in Romania for the summer. He had had the Pox as well, but the odd thing about Dragon Pox is that after having been around dragons for a long time, and the older you are, the quicker your body builds up immunity to the disease. In young children, however, Dragon Pox can kill sometimes, and is extraordinarily dangerous, so you can imagine how Ginny reacted to it at age three. I don't think anyone in our family was so sick. She couldn't possibly eat without bringing it all back up later, she couldn't keep herself hydrated…she couldn't do anything, basically…it was awful. Well, you know how impulsive mum is; she was already planning Gin's funeral, and to mention Gin's name was enough to put mum into tears. The Healers, however, were a bit more optimistic than mum, and said that she might recover within a month. In the end, Ginny had thrown off the disease after two weeks of illness. She's a fighter, Harry. She won't let a little _coma _keep her from those she loves, especially you, Harry." Ron reached out and placed his hand over Harry's shoulders.

"Wow, Ron, when did you become such a wise doctor?" Harry said, teasingly. His spirits couldn't help but be lifted from Ron's words.

"Come on back to bed," Ron said, "We'll no doubt be destroying more Horcruxes tomorrow, not to mention possible leads, so I think we ought to get some sleep." Harry nodded, and followed Ron back into the tent, and this time, he found he was able to fall asleep.

As Ron had reckoned, one of the first things the group did the next morning was to cast a few charms on the eagle crucifix to determine that it was, in fact, a Horcrux.

It was. The group once again was awoken at five thirty by Lupin's Rooster-bell. The table erected in the kitchen area of the tent was very small and could only really sit four, one on each end of the table. The seating arrangements, however, had been that Lupin sat at the head of the table, while Ron and Hermione sat close together on one side, while Harry and Ginny sat opposite them. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had liked it this way, taking comfort from the physical closeness of their loved ones' bodies. Harry sat down, feeling at once the absence of Ginny's body, taking with it most of his strength, and comfort. Instead, he felt hollow and lonely, like he was only half of himself, his other half somewhere else.

Breakfast had passed very silently. No one really felt like talking, nor did anyone feel like they had anything to say. Finally, however, as everyone finished up their meals, Lupin cleared his throat.

"Now, I know that the crucifix is most likely the Horcrux we have been hunting," Lupin said, "but I still want to run a few tests just to make sure." Everyone nodded, and Harry handed the crucifix over to Lupin, his face grim.

Lupin pointed his wand at the crucifix and muttered various incantations, but nothing happened. Just as everyone was starting to loose hope, however, Lupin muttered, in a very shaky voice, an incantation that neither Harry, Ron or Hermione had ever heard of, and as Lupin had said it, a sheen of dark, thick black smoke encircled itself around the crucifix. Lupin let out a slow breath, as did the others. Harry, Ron and Hermione did not know the spell Lupin had used, but after the smoke had died away, it was obvious that the eagle crucifix was in fact the Horcrux.

It didn't take the group long to decide that they would try to use the destruction curse again to destroy the crucifix. Since they didn't have any Acromantula venom around, they all agreed that force of numbers would have to be the way to destroy the bit of soul within the crucifix. It worked. Lupin had counted to three and he, Harry, Ron and Hermione all spoken the incantation at once.

What surprised them was that the soul fragment did not resist destruction the way the locket had. The aftermath had shaken everybody up a fair amount, but no one was in pain like they were after the locket. Harry postulated the theory that Voldemort had not placed as strong protection on his earlier Horcruxes as he had on later ones, as he had not gone through any pain, per se, when he had stabbed the diary with the basilisk fang. The only indication that they had succeeded in destroying the soul fragment was that, as the crucifix melted away, Harry was pretty sure he was hearing screams of agony within his own head. Though no one had felt any particular pain, when all was done, Ron was sporting a fairly nasty burn from the explosion, which offered Hermione the opportunity of showing her ability to fuss and worry over Ron out of her love for him, not unlike how he had fussed and worried over her after the locket had been destroyed, except, perhaps, without the anger.

The sun had barely risen by the time the Horcrux was destroyed, and Lupin's watch read only 6:55, which was a mark of how quickly the group had managed to destroy the horcrux.

At just that moment, however, there was a knock on the flap of the tent, and Charlie Weasley stepped in, looking around. Harry immediately noticed that Charlie's face looked tired and drawn, not to mention much more grave than what Harry had come to expect from him. Harry knew in an instant why, but that didn't cheer him up any, and he tried to hide away, while Charlie approached Lupin.

"I believe I have a lead on Hufflepuff's cup," Charlie said to Lupin, "A friend of mine who works with me in Romania has a relative-in-law in St. Andrews called Davy who has familial ties to the family of Hepzibah Smith, and may know something." Lupin nodded.

"We may visit him later on today, then."

"Okay," Charlie said nodding, "may I just have a word with my brother, and then I'll be off." Ron got up, looking a bit confused, and followed Charlie out of the tent.

Harry could see the brothers talking out of the tent window, and once again, he had a pretty good idea what they were talking about, and his sense of foreboding only increased. After a bit of conferencing, the two Weasleys returned to the tent. Charlie still looked grave, and Ron looked angry. Charlie took a seat opposite Harry.

"So…" Charlie said slowly, "so…" Harry had to bite his tongue to refrain from saying 'so what?', since he already knew what the answer was.

"So…what is this all about? What happened to my sister?!"

"Surely you were told?" Harry said, nervously.

"Yes, Harry, I was told," Charlie said, "but I still want to hear it from you."

"Leave him alone!" Ron burst in suddenly, his face reddening, "I already told you a Death Eater attacked her, it's not his fault!!"

"You stay out of this, Ron!!" Charlie yelled.

"So…I'm listening." Charlie said, turning back to Harry.

"What do you want me to say?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling very wrong footed and confused, "Ron's right; a Death Eater attacked Gin, and now she's in a coma. I swear I don't know anything else."

"You don't know that Bill, who has always had a special bond with Ginevra has now traveled from France, abandoned his wife and his work for the order, at great personal risk to himself, to be with her? You don't know that mum has started to act like she did when Ginevra caught Dragon Pox from me? You don't know that dad is raffling off all of his most prized possessions to pay for her coma potion? You don't know that, for the first time that I can think of, the twins haven't joked around or pranked anyone? No kidding you don't know anything else!!!!" Harry sat stunned. Here he was sitting across from someone he knew to be kind, easygoing, and fun to be around. He was staring into the blue eyes of a fellow Seeker! A brave dragon handler, and most importantly, a fierce friend who Harry was soon to be related to, but now all he was getting was cold anger from someone he respected and loved. And Charlie had called her _Ginevra_. Multiple times.

Harry swallowed against the rush of emotions that had boiled over at Charlie's words. He loved Ginny, and couldn't bear to hear Charlie's words. Did Charlie think he was not hurting just as much, maybe more, than the rest of the Weasleys?

"What do you want me to do? To say?" Harry asked again, his voice rising as his emotions got the better of him and tears started down his face. Charlie fixed Harry with a hard gaze that was hard to read, except that his eyes reminded him of Hermione's eyes when Lupin had asked the group if they were ready to mount a campaign against the Death Eaters' labor camp.

"What I want you to do," Charlie said slow and coolly, "is break it off with my sister."

"WHAT?!?" Ron bellowed. Harry just stared, his tears intensifying.

"She's in danger with him! People have always said that danger, hell Harry, you've said it yourself, that danger and trouble has a way of finding you!"

"What good will Harry breaking it off do?" Ron said indignantly.

"I don't want Ginny in danger! I don't want her to die!!" Tears now appeared in Charlie's eyes too.

"I don't want her to die either!!!!" Harry screamed. "Is that what you think? That I don't love her enough to care for her safety? She is everything to me! I can't live without her! I want to keep her safe, too! She makes me complete! But I can't break up with someone who makes me so happy!! Is your opinion of me so low that you believe me incapable of understanding the danger I've put her in because I'm me?!?" Charlie stepped back, taken by surprise by Harry's outburst of passion.

"No…of course not…didn't mean…just got carried away…didn't mean to suggest…"

"Yes, you did!" Ron roared at his brother, "everything you said implied that you _don't _think Harry can love Ginny! Honestly Charlie, do you not think I'm not worried and scared for Gin, too? We all are! For Merlin's sake, Charlie! But I've seen Harry and Ginny together; I can tell they're meant for each other. I look into their faces, and I see how I feel about Hermione! Breaking those two up will not solve anything!" Charlie took another two steps backwards, his mouth opening to retort.

"ENOUGH!" Lupin roared, breaking up the argument. "Charlie, I know you and your family are worried sick about Ginny, but Ron is right, we all are scared for Ginny. But Harry and Ginny, for the sake of their happiness must remain together. Thank you for the info on the cup, but I think you have overextended your welcome. Besides, we need to be off." Charlie nodded, now looking immensely exhausted. He nodded once at the group.

"Well, I'll be off." With those words, he slouched out of the tent and disapparated back to the Burrow, while the others quickly packed up to make their way to St. Andrews.


	21. Chapter 21: The 4th Unforgivable Curse

TWENTY-ONE: The Fourth Unforgivable Curse

It was like Ginny was a baby all over again as Mrs. Weasley cared for her daughter over the next day. She fed and changed Ginny, stayed by her bedside and often sang lullabies, even though Ginny was already asleep, and probably couldn't hear her anyway.

How to feed Ginny had been a bit of a puzzle, though Mrs. Weasley's motherly instincts made her realize that Ginny was in no state to eat solids, so she pureed all of Ginny's food for her. She hated having to force her little girl's mouth open in such an obtrusive way, but she discovered that, because of all of Ginny's organs in perfect order, her reflexes took over when Mrs. Weasley administered a spoonful of applesauce onto Ginny's tongue, so Mrs. Weasley felt that Ginny was, at the very least, getting nourished.

Changing Ginny had also proven difficult, as Ginny's legs were much longer than when she was an infant, so Mrs. Weasley had to often call upon the help of her oft-reluctant husband. For Mrs. Weasley, the feeling was much different, too. Changing all of her children as babies had been very fun for Mrs. Weasley, enjoying her children's gurgles and cries as she worked, and softly crooning 'boo-boo jokes', as she called them, at them to help calm them, but now changing Ginny was more likely to bring tears to Mrs. Weasley, as she constantly pondered the same question over and over: What did her baby do to deserve to be in such a state? She knew the answer, and wished upon any star that it could be different. She would never blame Harry Potter for any of this, but it still hurt to see Ginny like this.

Bill showing up had been a real surprise for Mrs. Weasley. At first she had been furious that he would desert working for the order, but it had been very nice having him around, as he had been a very able caretaker, and had been at least as upset as his parents to see his sister in her current state, to say the least.

"Dear Merlin, what happened to you, Sprite?" Bill whispered miserably upon seeing her unconscious form.

His question was answered a minute later, as Mr. Weasley popped his head in on the two.

"Molly, dear, Healer Greene's in the fire and he says he has an update on Ginny's condition which he would like to share with you present," Mr. Weasley said. Mrs. Weasley nodded, and she and Bill left the room and dropped down by the fireplace, where Healer Greene's head was resting comfortably among the flames, looking grave.

"So, Healer, you have some information on Ginny?" Mr. Weasley prompted, settling down beside Mrs. Weasley.

"Yes," Healer Greene said, "we ran a few tests on Ginevra, and I'm prepared to bet that the curse that was used on her was a very dark curse we've never heard of before. I reckon it's only just been devised. The team I've assigned to monitor Ginevra's case has dubbed it 'Devil's Dream Hex'."

"What does it do?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"We do not know all the specifics as we're still researching it," Healer Greene responded, "but from what little I do know, I think we ought to assume that while Ginevra is in her coma, she will be suffering something somewhere between a nightmare and a hallucination. As far as I know, there is little that can be done for it. You may try a dreamless sleep potion, but I sincerely doubt that would have any effect."

"So what do we do for her?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her voice shaking.

"I can only suggest that you be there for her when she wakes up. I have little hesitation that she will be weak and distressed. I advise against any strenuous physical or mental activities, and I encourage you to encourage Ginevra to open up, as I believe that she will most likely be very distraught, yet I doubt she will want to open up at first." Mrs. Weasley nodded, tears threatening to fall. She looked over at her family, and was very relieved to see that Bill had been taking notes.

"If this is a new curse, are you going to inform the Ministry?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Naturally," Healer Greene replied, "I'm sending someone out later today to speak with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and see if we can't get this curse down in the books as the fourth unforgivable curse."

"Why?" asked Mr. Weasley, nonplussed.

"In it's own right, Devil's Dream Hex is just as nasty as any of the other unforgivable curses. It has its ways of torturing its victims. I would think it a safe assumption to guess that Ginevra may suffer recurring nightmares from now on at random points from having been hit by the curse."

"Thank you, Healer, but…er…I think that's all I can take for one day." Mr. Weasley said, his voice also shaking a bit.

"I understand." Healer Greene said simply, and withdrew his head from the fire.

"A fourth unforgivable curse…unforgivable…oh, Arthur, I'm scared." Mrs. Weasley said weakly, tears spilling silently down her face. Mr. Weasley hugged her gently.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Weasley was once again in Ginny's room, staring down at Ginny's lifeless form. It had taken a bit of convincing, but she had managed to get Mr. Weasley and Bill to agree to let her give Ginny a dose of dreamless sleep potion.

"Oh, sugar," Mrs. Weasley whispered miserably to Ginny's lifeless form, "why did this have to happen to you?"

_Ginny was once again in the white castle, and while the light still swam around, the walls were definitely more solid and defined than ever before in the countless times she had to relive the dream. This time, however, things were different somehow. The other times she had been in the castle, there had been no sounds until the ethereal voice had called out her name and she had responded in type. Now, however, there were all sorts of sounds. It was like a thousand people were speaking; and yet they were all speaking in the usual distant ethereal tones, but the amount of echo was fit for a large cavern or cathedral, making it impossible for her to comprehend anything that any of the voices were saying. It was almost like listening to a dull, monotonous symphony._

_She found that movement was much easier. She moved forward, and immediately she was back in the small room with the cell door that led to the other identical room, there was no more incessant chatter, and there, just as before, was the Harry-figure. She approached him, and he again spoke, but this time she did not have to lip-read, for aside from his voice sounding like it was coming from miles away, and echoing dismally into the silence, he was speaking perfectly clearly._

_"Ginny…I love you and…I do not want you coming to look for the Horcruxes with me." A pause and then…_

_"Goodbye." And again, the Harry-figure moved towards the other end of his room, and once again, the floor disappeared, only this time, flames shot up, and as the Harry-figure disappeared, the flames suddenly surrounded her vision, and with a start, she woke up._

Ginny's eyes flew open, and she merely lay there, a sense of total and complete confusion and disorientation was upon her. She could tell she was in her bed at the Burrow, but where were the others? What had happened to the castle? Where were Ron, Hermione and Harry? Why was she drenched in cold sweat that made her feel like she was embedded in ice cubes? And why, of all maddening, embarrassing things was she in a diaper? Suddenly, she realized her stomach was churning and that she was feeling extremely nauseous. Realizing she needed to go to the bathroom, she proceeded to get out of bed. Her legs obeyed her stimulus, which seemed to rule out the possibility of her having a very strange dream, but why, _why _was she at the Burrow at all? The last thing she could remember was the castle, and a very dim memory of running away…from a house…there were lots of people around…she was running with Harry, Hermione, Ron and Lupin…they were heading towards a clearing in a village square…something painful hit her…

She reached the bathroom in time, barely noticing where her feet were taking her. She knelt down in front of the toilet and vomited.

"GINNY!" Mrs. Weasley had been passing by the bathroom as Ginny was being sick.

"Ginny…sugar…oh my…you…are you…you're awake." Mrs. Weasley spluttered, as her daughter sat down on the cold floor, exhausted.

"Oh Ginny," Mrs. Weasley whispered, tears coursing down her face, "you should be in bed." Ginny looked at Mrs. Weasley and tried to say 'mum', but no words came out, her exhaustion was profound. Seeing her little baby so frail and sick tore Mrs. Weasley's heart into pieces, and before she could stop herself, she had pulled Ginny into a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh, sugar, you're all sweaty, let me prepare a bath for you." Mrs. Weasley said, and pointed her wand at the tub, which instantly began to fill with steaming hot water, while Mrs. Weasley helped Ginny out of her sweat-soaked nightdress and diapers which she cleaned and then banished. Then she proceeded to help lower Ginny into the bath.

The hot water soothed Ginny wonderfully, and she started to feel much better, though still quite confused, but still enjoyed the immensely relaxing effect of the water and her mother cleaning her off.

Mrs. Weasley had wanted to send Ginny straight back to bed, but at last Ginny had found her voice, and requested that she might go downstairs and just spend some time with her family. It didn't take much to convince Mrs. Weasley, and once she had finished scrubbing Ginny, she helped her out of the bath, helped dry her, and get into some clean, loose-fitting clothes, and helped her downstairs.

"_Ginny_!" Mr. Weasley breathed, as Mrs. Weasley came down, supporting her. His arms and lips trembling, Mr. Weasley helped Mrs. Weasley wrap a blanket snugly around Ginny and lay her down on the couch, her head across Mrs. Weasley's lap. Ginny merely smiled. It was so nice to simply lie there, snuggled up to Mrs. Weasley's warm body as she gently caressed Ginny's hair, while Mr. Weasley gently caressed the rest of her. Bill smiled at her.

"Hey, Dragon-ear," Ginny whispered weakly, using her pet name for him.

"Hey, Sprite." Bill responded, his voice shaking. As happy as she was to see them, and as much as she loved being with them, Ginny still had to know where her soul mate was. This was a moment where the love emanating from her parents and brother meant the world to her, and kept her calm, but she still needed to feel his touch, know that he was okay, and that he would be with her as she recovered.

"Where's Harry?" She whispered. The other three exchanged uneasy glances. They doubted she would believe them, and to get her worked up emotionally would probably not be very advisable.

"Um…Ginny, sweetheart, we don't…know where Harry is." Mr. Weasley said softly, but with an apologetic note in his voice. Ginny's face fell.

"I'm so sorry, Sprite," Bill said, "Remus wants as few people knowing about their whereabouts as possible while they search for you-know-who's Horcruxes…I'm not sure I agree with him, though." Ginny didn't know what to think. She felt way too exhausted to try and comprehend what to do. All that she knew was that she needed to hear Harry's voice, but she didn't know how to tell her family just now.

"Come on, sugar, we need to get you to bed." Mrs. Weasley said gently. Not knowing what else to do, Ginny let herself be steered back into her room by her mother. Mrs. Weasley once again helped Ginny into a nightdress, and then gave her a kiss and laid her down, saying she would go and write to Harry. Ginny smiled at her mother in thanks, and barely had the time to pull the covers over herself before she was in a deep sleep.

Unfortunately, it was not a peaceful sleep…Ginny was lying on the cold stone floor of the Chamber of Secrets. She did not have to wonder where she was, for this place would be forever a dark spot in her memory, a dark period in her life and soul that could never be pure again. Glancing around her, she saw that Riddle's diary was on the floor, the Basilisk fang balancing in the middle where Harry had pierced the diary, torrents of ink all over the place. A few paces behind the diary was Gryffindor's sword, covered in the blood from the Basilisk.

"Harry?" Ginny called, softly, trying not to panic.

"Ginny…" Harry said from behind her. She turned and faced him. He was a mess. His robes were covered in grime, ink and blood, and he was shaking like mad while trying to hide the spot in his arm that the Basilisk fang penetrated.

"Ginny…" it seemed to cost Harry quite a bit to talk, "you need to…get yourself…out." His breathing was labored, and he seemed to be fighting unconsciousness.

"Harry…I…you're hurt." Ginny said. She rolled him over so he was on his back, his face resting on her lap. He tried to smile.

"Don't worry, I…just wasn't quick enough…Basilisk venom…"

"Where's Fawkes? I thought…I remember he healed you with his tears." Harry, with great effort, pointed to where the Basilisk's body was. Scattered around it's mouth was a smattering of red and gold feathers.

"Basilisk accidentally ate…Fawkes…after…blindly lunging after…me."

"No…this can't be happening…this isn't what happened! You can't die, please don't leave me, please! There is so much I never told you. Stay with me, Harry, we'll get you out, please!" Ginny pleaded in a continuous whisper, tears welling up in her eyes. Harry smiled weakly, and reached up with his hand. It was frightfully cold and shook violently as he attempted to brush her tears away. His hand fell as he took a shuddering breath.

"Shhh…no tears…you're safe…all that matters. Promise me…you…will live…love you, Gin." And with that one last breath, Ginny watched as his wonderful emerald eyes dilated open as far as they could go. Ginny held his lifeless body, sobbing.

"No…no…I love you too, Harry! This can't happen…I can't live without you…Harry! No! No…"

"NO!" Ginny sat bolt upright in her bed, her heart beating doubly fast. Sweat and tears coursed down her body, puddling on her sheets. Sighing, she got up and walked over to the window, staring out at the sky.

"Why do you do this to me, Harry?" She asked the stars.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Lupin were very happy to be able to finally get to bed after an exhausting day. By an unforeseen navigational error, they had accidentally apparated into Glasgow instead of St. Andrews, and Lupin had decided that to disapparate from Glasgow might not be a good choice, as there was no strictly wizarding area in that city, so they had to take a Muggle taxi all the way to St. Andrews. Thus, the group was very tired, mostly road-weary, by the time they got to St. Andrews, and they were perfectly content to find a campsite recommended by their cab driver and set up camp. Everyone pretty much fell asleep the moment their heads hit their pillows.

"'Night, Harry."

"'Night, Ron."

"Goodnight, Harry."

"'Night, Moony."

"Goodnight, Harry, sweet dreams," Hermione said…

Harry was walking back from detention with Snape, wondering how well the Quidditch house cup had fared. He couldn't stand what Snape had said about his father and Sirius. Calling their double-detentions his father and Sirius's 'greatest achievements'…oooh, he hated that man! Just don't think about that, he told himself, and he took off for the Gryffindor common room, his mind back on Quidditch. The team, regardless of how they did, celebrated in the common room. He arrived in front of the fat lady.

"_Quid agis_?" He asked tentatively. A tear fell down the fat lady's face as she appraised him.

"You'll see," she said sadly, swinging forward to admit him. As he walked in, Harry took in the common room's appearance. There was a table that was groaning under the weight of mounds of food, which was probably Fred and George's doing, there was a banner that celebrated Gryffindor's spectacular four hundred and fifty to a hundred and forty defeat of Ravenclaw, no doubt drawn by Dean Thomas, who had a good hand for drawing, but even so, there was something missing. There was no cheering, no one ran forward, and though everything had been set up for a celebration, it was quite plain nobody was celebrating. Several students clutched Butterbeers, though their faces suggested a desire for something stronger. Harry's eyes sought Ron.

He was sitting in a corner, holding the Quidditch house cup to him, looking positively miserable. His face was pale and downcast, and his eyes looked marginally red. Hermione was beside him, her arms around his shoulders, trying to comfort him, and remain strong, though she too appeared to be fighting tears.

"What happened?" Harry asked without preamble, approaching his friends. This was not how things turned out. In the back of his mind, he could remember Ron jumping up and down, unable to stop screaming out the match results, waving the cup as though it were a flag, and Ginny had run fourth and hugged him…he had kissed her…instead, he found himself looking into Hermione's sad eyes.

"Harry, I think you need to…to see this." Hermione said very softly, and taking his hand, led him back out of the portrait hole. Harry's insides turned to ice as he realized where she was leading him. They stopped outside the doors to the hospital wing.

"Hermione…what's going on?" Harry asked.

"You'll…you'll see," Hermione responded, her body shaking with suppressed sobs. She knocked and the two entered. Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley were there, standing beside a bed. Mr. Weasley was holding a sobbing Mrs. Weasley, while trying to remain strong, though he failed miserably, as they stared down at the bed. Cautiously, Harry approached.

The bed bore a single occupant with a sheet covering the body over. There was, however, a patch of fiery red hair visible.

"No…" Harry whispered. Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse strode over and put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"She got hit by a Bludger and fell off her broom," Madam Pomfrey explained, a tear in her voice, "and she hit one of the guard rails near the commentator's podium as she fell and broke her neck. I'm sorry." Slowly, she reached out and pulled the covers off of the body, revealing Ginny Weasley's lifeless face. Tears spilt out of Harry's eyes as he sobbed.

"Ginny! No! This isn't what happened! Please, don't be dead, Ginny, I love you! I love you!! Ginny! No!"

"NO!!" Harry awoke, tangled in his sweat-drenched sleeping bag.

"'S everything alright, 'Arry?" Hermione asked sleepily.

"Yeah, just…just a bad dream. Go back to bed." Hermione nodded, and was snoring within seconds, but Harry lay awake, trying to sort out his sleeping bag, and trying to determine what that nightmare was all about. Eventually, he fell back asleep, but his rest was punctuated by visions of Ginny dead, and by the time morning rolled around, he felt like he had been awake for a week Sighing, he made his way to breakfast, unaware that at this moment, he was not the only one waking up to painful dreams.


	22. Chapter 22: Through the Dark

TWENTY-TWO: Through the Dark

The next morning, Ginny went down to breakfast when her mother called. She had not gotten much sleep and was still exhausted, but she got herself up anyway. She sat down and looked at her food, but she wasn't remotely hungry. She punctured the yolk of her fried egg, letting the fluid seep over the rest of the egg and swimming the whites around in the yolk.

"Dear, you should really eat that." Mrs. Weasley said quietly.

"I'm not hungry, mum." Ginny replied.

"Are you feeling okay, sugar?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "Can I get you something else, perhaps?"

"No, mum, thanks, but I'm fine." Ginny said. Mrs. Weasley decided to let her be for the moment, hoping things would be different later. Mrs. Weasley also knew that it was pointless to try and get Ginny to open up just yet, as her motherly instincts as well as her knowledge of her daughter's habits told Mrs. Weasley that Ginny was not ready to open up.

For her mother's silence and not continually fussing, Ginny was grateful. As long as she kept working on the chores her mother asked of her, and kept relatively busy so that she couldn't dwell on her dream, Ginny was able to maintain enough happiness to keep up a strong front so that her mother wouldn't worry too much.

The only person Ginny was fooling, however, was herself. Mrs. Weasley had immediately noticed the bags under Ginny's eyes, her lack of appetite, but most noticeably, her lack of happiness in her eyes and attitude. Whatever she said to the contrary, she looked anything but fine, and Mrs. Weasley was worried. Very worried. She knew her daughter was a very strong young woman. Being the youngest child with six brothers had made sure of that, but Mrs. Weasley could tell that being separated from the man she loved, her brother and her best friend was eating Ginny up, and she hoped that Ginny would open up before she snapped.

After breakfast the next day Lupin, Ron and Hermione had been busy searching for Hufflepuff's cup. It had been a day of dead ends and near misses, for the contact Charlie had put the group in touch with was indeed a family member of Hepzibah Smith, but he did not have the cup, though he said that he had seen one that matched Lupin's description, and he knew that one of his cousins currently had the cup in his possession, but he could not remember which cousin had it. Then, the group had only just escaped a small group of Death Eaters who had been lurking around St. Andrews, hoping for a little Muggle-baiting.

Harry had been with them, of course, but at the moment, he did not much care what happened. The other three were quick to note his new demeanor. Harry was known to often bottle up and quench his emotions, and if anything bothered him, it would take some prying and poking to get him to open up, and until he did, he would have a tendency to brood. Now, he was doing almost nothing else, and it seemed that neither prying nor poking could get Harry to open up this time. The others feared that if he did not open up soon, he would break down, and in times such as these, breakdowns are not recommended. With all that had happened the last few days, Harry was quite relieved that the sun had set, and that the tent had been erected. He just hoped tonight would be more restful than last night.

In his dream, Harry was standing in front of Dumbledore's body after Snape had killed him last year, not believing he could be dead. His hand enclosed around the fake Horcrux, while he tried to make sense of what had just happened, and how he was feeling.

"C'mon, Harry," Hagrid urged, "C'mon, yeh can' stay here, Harry." Another, somewhat smaller hand enclosed on his shoulder where Hagrid's massive one had been.

"Come on, Harry, we need to get you out of here." In the back of his memory, he remembered a very specific voice, and this one was not it. Confused, Harry chanced a glance at the new arrival. It was Ron. _Ron_? His face was exceptionally pale, and tears were in his eyes. Noticing Harry looking, he hastily wiped them away.

"Come on, Harry," Ron said again. Without any particular reason, Harry obeyed the pressure from Ron's grip, and hoisted himself up, following Ron.

"McGonagall wants us at the…at the hospital wing straight away." Ron said in a very shaky voice.

"Ron…" due to shock, Harry's voice wasn't working just right, "the Dark Mark…who's dead?"

"D…don't w…worry, no…nobody's d…dead." Ron replied. Something in his voice, however, boded ill with Harry, for even in highly emotionally charged situations, Ron usually spoke in a much steadier voice than this.

"Are you sure?" Ron choked on something which could have been a sob.

"You…you'll see. Hermione's with her…" Ron's voice drifted away. As Harry and Ron rounded the corridor leading to the hospital wing, Fred and George, tailed by Bill, were running at them. The twins were crying. The twins? Crying? Harry didn't even know they were capable of such an action, and would have normally found it funny, if not downright ridiculous, and yet, something about tonight made the twins' tears only increase his sense of foreboding.

"Harry, I'm so sorry…I couldn't stop him…Greyback just…I couldn't get there in time…" Bill's voice died away.

"What is going on?" Harry asked more forcefully. Bill simply beckoned him into the room, and led him over to a bed. Charlie, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were there, sobbing, trying to comfort each other, though each couldn't have been more upset. Standing a bit behind Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, allowing them space, stood Hermione, Lupin and McGonagall. Harry walked over, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's tears telling him all he needed to know.

"No…" he whispered. Ginny lay there, her body mangled by the Werewolf. She was covered from head to foot in blood, and yet she still looked beautiful to Harry. Lupin cursed Greyback under his breath, while Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys stood around Ginny, sobbing.

"I'm so, so sorry." Harry finally choked out to Mrs. and Mr. Weasley.

"I'm sorry, too, Harry." Mr. Weasley replied in a very nasal voice.

"NO!" Harry once again sat bolt upright, drenched in cold sweat. This time, he didn't even bother to try and go back to sleep, but walked into the kitchen area with the intention of fixing a hot chocolate, where, to his surprise was a barn owl bearing a letter for him. He opened it. It was from Mrs. Weasley:

_Dear Harry,_

_I know we are not supposed to communicate outside of leads for the Horcruxes, but right now, I don't care all that much._

_Ginny awoke from her coma yesterday, and was asking about you. She wants to, and she needs to see you, Harry. She told me she reckons you won't want her coming back with you, Remus, Ron and Hermione, but she hopes that at the very least, she will be able to at least see her, so that you can at least acknowledge that she is all right again…no, she's not all right, come to that, she misses you, Harry, and is desperate to see you once again._

_It isn't easy to be separated from your lover, brother and best friend like this, Harry._

_Ginny is hoping to see you very soon._

_Yours most truly,_

_Molly Weasley._

Harry folded up the letter. If he was honest with himself, he was equally determined to see Ginny. He had made up his mind, however, that he just could not face having her come back. He had been very right with one reason he used when he initially broke up with Ginny last year: Voldemort _does _use the ones his enemies are closest to, and he had used Ginny against Harry. Twice. Harry could not bear the thought of Ginny being used again, regardless of her chances of living through the experience. In fact, he was wondering if he ought to start trying to get Lupin, Ron and Hermione moved to safety. Nevertheless, he started to subconsciously plan ways of meeting up with Ginny.

Ginny's day was not nearly as busy as she would have liked, even though she was willingly doing chores for both her parents, in the hope that she could keep her mind off her dream, and the dream-hallucinations she had lived while she was in her coma. It didn't work. The moment she sat down to a meal, or stopped working for even a moment, the visions from the dreams would hit her, and she would promptly loose her appetite and she constantly wondered if she had lost her sanity.

Because of this, she was quite glad to be shuttled to bed by Mrs. Weasley. She requested that she be allowed to take a dose of dreamless sleep potion, saying that she was drop dead exhausted, and needed a good, whole sleep. Though she knew it wasn't the real reason her daughter wanted a dreamless sleep potion, Mrs. Weasley allowed herself to be steered by her daughter's logic, and pushed a cup into Ginny's hand as she kissed her goodnight.

Once again, Ginny's dream had to take place in an event she was not likely to forget. She was in the second to topmost tier in the grandstands set up for the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. She was sandwiched in between Hermione and George, watching the progress of the champions, mentally cheering Harry on. She heard Hermione give a soft 'oh!' as Fleur was dragged unconscious from the maze, of which the last two tiers gave a very good view.

Suddenly, the crowd gave a much louder, more exaggerated repeat of Hermione's 'oh!'.

"Look!" Ron called, on Hermione's other side, pointing towards the center of the maze. Just visible were two miniature figures—Harry and Cedric—as they were whisked away by the Triwizard Cup.

"Blimey, that's not supposed to happen. The cup's not supposed to be a Portkey." George said, beside Ginny.

"Is this supposed to be a part of the task?" Fred wondered aloud.

"I don't like this…" Hermione muttered. Ginny didn't say anything. Her insides were suddenly reeling like they had snakes inside them. No one spoke for a long time, as they waited for some word on Harry or Cedric. Even Ludo Bagman, who was doing the commentary was silent.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light. On Fred's other side, Lee Jordan let out a yell that could be heard across the stadium.

"LOOK!" Cedric and Harry had returned. They were both a mess. Their robes were stained, and they had sweat and dirt all over their faces. The quiet that had been while Harry and Cedric were unaccounted for, suddenly doubled in quietness, and even the air seemed still suddenly, so that Cedric's hysterical sobbing could be heard clearly throughout the stadium.

"Let's go." Hermione whispered, and she, Ron and Ginny got up and started making their way towards the ground. As they drew nearer, they could hear exactly what Cedric was sobbing out as he was comforted by his agitated father and Dumbledore, and Ginny's blood froze.

"He's back! Dumbledore, you-know-who's back! Harry protected me…_Avada Kedavra_…used Harry's wand, mine broke…dueled with him…Harry asked me to bring his body back…I couldn't leave him! Not there!"

"Let me through! Let me through!" Ginny yelled frantically, pushing her way towards Cedric.

"That's my boy!" Ginny cried as she knelt down in front of the lifeless Harry, "that's my Harry! No! Nooooooo!!" Ginny crumpled, sobbing her heart out. All sorts of voices yelled it—screeched it—into the night.

"He's dead! He's _dead_! Harry Potter! _Dead_!!" But nobody, not even Ron or Hermione, who were also sobbing, could feel what Ginny felt, as she knelt beside the love of her life knowing he would never love her again. She would never feel his hugs, or taste his kisses ever again.

Ginny sat bolt upright in her bed, sweating and shaking. Her dream must have lasted longer than the others, for she saw a very slim patch of sunlight creeping across the horizon. She tried to get back to sleep, but knew that it was pointless.

"Dreamless sleep potion, my arse!" Ginny said angrily to herself as she kicked off her covers. She had not been very aware of how loud she had said it, for a few minutes later, Mrs. Weasley, who had also been awake, came to investigate the source of the commotion.

"Did you say something, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"No, mum." Ginny responded, looking at her feet.

"Oh, right." Mrs. Weasley said, though it was clear to Ginny that Mrs. Weasley could sense her lie.

"Are you okay, sugar?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"I'm fine, mum." Ginny responded, still staring at her feet. Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"Ginny, please, don't lie to me. I know this whole ordeal has been very upsetting to you. Trust me when I say that I don't want you to open up before you're ready to, sugar…and I'm not saying that because Healer Greene recommended that your father and I let you take the lead in opening up, but…I can't bear seeing you like this, sugar. If there is anything, anything at all that I can do, even if it means apparating to wherever Harry and the others are, and dragging him back here, I will." Ginny chuckled softly.

"Thanks mum." Mrs. Weasley smiled and hugged Ginny.

"When you're ready, come on downstairs. We're having company to dinner tonight, and I really think you and I ought to pay a visit to Diagon Alley." Suddenly, Mrs. Weasley looked almost dreamy. "We could try…what does Hermione's mother call it…retail therapy?" At this, Ginny truly burst out laughing. Though she hid it better than her husband, Ginny could tell that Mrs. Weasley was quite as excited about having Muggle in-laws as Mr. Weasley was. Still chuckling, she followed her mother downstairs, feeling rather more cheerful at the absolutely bollocks notion of 'retail therapy'. For one thing, Ginny knew that she did not have the gold necessary for a few good sessions of that particular therapy, and for another, Ginny was not one to derive any particular pleasure from simply buying the next trendy item. Sure, she'd buy a Firebolt like Harry's if she had the gold…Harry…but her wardrobe wasn't wanting for anything, except perhaps an old shirt or two of Harry's that she could use as a nightshirt…Harry…and what good was buying what Muggles called an 'appliance' if they wouldn't work in her house, although Harry would probably know how to work those…come-pewter thingies if they could live in a wizarding home that had electrikety…Harry…

So as the day progressed, Ginny's thoughts almost always found a way to go back to Harry, and even if she was thinking something totally outrageous, her fried and aching brain found ways to bring her thoughts back to him, no matter how hard she tried to think of other things, and thus, the happiness she had found within her amusement at her mother discovering the Muggle theory of 'retail therapy', was slowly diminishing, and she followed her mother around Diagon Alley no longer interested in what they were doing, or the company they were having for dinner later.

The two arrived a few minutes later, their arms laden with shopping, which was mainly food, though Mrs. Weasley could not resist the temptation to buy a new tablecloth for the occasion. It appeared, as Ginny walked in the door, that the company had already arrived, and Ginny allowed herself to smile. Fred, George and Tonks had joined Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Granger and Bill at the table (which was about to be bedecked with a new tablecloth), talking animatedly. It had turned out to be a very enjoyable night. Fred and George, who had returned to their shop so they could keep tabs on Diagon Alley and Diagon Alley-based Death Eaters for the Order of the Phoenix, as well as spend some time with Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, who had promised to help the twins out (though Ginny could tell, by the way George talked about it that there was another underlying promise behind the loyal employer promise) in working, had been lively entertainers, keeping everyone, including Ginny, in good spirits. In fact, the only thing that seemed to be going wrong was that Ginny still didn't have an appetite. This did not go unnoticed by Fred, George or Tonks.

"Hey, sis, what's wrong? Not hungry?" George said casually, perhaps a little too casually to be entirely believable.

"Maybe she's started one of those Muggle diets." Fred suggested.

"Yeah," George said thoughtfully, "I was reading about one of those. It was called 'Thatchin's', or something like that."

"Atkins'?"

"Yes, that."

"No," Fred said seriously, "I don't think it's Atkins. She hasn't touched her steak, see."

"Yeah," George agreed, "so it must be that new diet craze…what're they calling it? Oh yeah, the 'get no food, no nutrition and no sleep diet."

"Well, I guess it's working." Fred said.

"I agree, brother, unless…" George said, looking pensive, "unless our sister is on a hunger strike because she misses her Harry." Fred looked as though someone had switched a light on in his head.

"Yeah, that'll be it. Does Gin miss little Harry?" Fred gently teased. "Does she miss his hugs, his cuddle, his kiss--" Fred's words were drawn to an abrupt halt as a plate of food whizzed past him, narrowly missing his face. Ginny was on her feet, her expression one of loathing.

"Is that what you're hoping to hear, then?" Ginny screamed at her brothers, "that I'm a lost, lonely, helpless damsel who is pining for her knight? Do you want me to say that I feel left behind?

"Well, I do feel left behind, but that's nothing new. You lot have left me behind for my whole life, so believe me, I can cope with that! What I _can't _cope with is the fear. I suppose you want to hear what I envisioned after I got hit by that curse? You want to hear that ever since then, in some form or another, I've dreamt about Harry dying…and I can't do a thing…

"_He's my soul mate!!_ Sooner or later I'm going to be his wife!" –she thrust her left hand towards the twins, her engagement ring twinkling in the candlelight –"I know that doesn't mean as much to the rest of you, cause Fred has George not to mention Angelina and Alicia, mum has dad, Ron has Hermione, Tonks has Remus! Bill has Fleur! They're all complete! All I know is that I've never been more terrified in my life, now that we are in the thick of this war…I mean, it's just so likely that any of us could die…but when I'm with Harry it's like he makes me feel safer, and I feel like…like it's okay to be afraid. Without him, it's like I'm only half of what I'm supposed to be…I'm incomplete. I'm so scared, mum, and I want him back. Can't I please just have him back?" It tore Mrs. Weasley's heart as Ginny sobbed uncontrollably and unrestrainedly onto her shoulder after her breakdown. The twins looked positively stunned and a little frightened as they observed Ginny. Mr. Weasley, Bill and Tonks seemed to be choking on their own emotions.

"What's all the noise?" said a familiar voice from the doorway. It seemed an odd comment to make, as there was almost no noise, save Ginny's sobs, which were slowly receding as she started to calm down. As Charlie Weasley walked towards them, he appeared to miss the bewildered, if slightly incredulous stares his brothers and father were giving him.

"What've I missed?" Charlie asked, eyeing his family concernedly. His eyes drifted over Ginny, still buried in Mrs. Weasley's bosom. He blinked back tears as he saw how upset she clearly was.

"Are you okay, ginger-lion?" Charlie asked, feeling pretty sure he knew her answer. Ginny shook her head, but did not elaborate. She did not need to elaborate, though, for Charlie felt he had a pretty good idea what was going on. As he watched his sister sob her heart out, he was more determined then ever that his plan be made to work. It was, however, much harder for him to face his sister to tell her she ought to break it off with Harry then it was to face either Harry or Ron.

"Ginger-lion," Charlie began hesitantly, "I…I know you clearly love Harry with all your heart…but…I think you would do better with…I mean, until…er…the war is over, I think you ought to consider breaking up with him…" Charlie let his voice drift away. Ginny had turned from her mother, no longer crying, but her look of mingled fury and shock clearly suggested that were Charlie anybody else than her brother, she would have wished him a very slow and painful death.

"WHAT?!" Bill said, sounding just like Ron.

"Oh, Charlie, that was…" Fred began, in a light tone that suggested that he was not at all amused,

"Your life's biggest mistake." George finished, wearing a scowl that he usually reserved for Percy's moments of extreme pompousness.

"You're beginning to sound like our dear older brother, you are," Fred said, scowling too. "Harry Potter isn't fit to hang around us Weasleys because he's Harry Potter…Harry Potter who hasn't had anyone to love before he came to Hogwarts must yet again be cast away because, what hey, he's a dangerous, possibly unbalanced fellow!"

"And I thought Percy was the family fool!" George said, shaking his head. "I'm disgusted, Charlie, disgusted." Charlie ignored his brothers and appealed, instead, to his parents. Mrs. Weasley, however, looked at him with her mouth slightly open in puzzlement, and Tonks and Mr. Weasley both sported incredulous looks surprisingly like the twins' faces. Even Mrs. Granger was frowning slightly. Ginny had not said anything. She was furious that Charlie, who had always been a very sensible person, and who had been quite close to Harry, would suggest such a ridiculous thing, and she was embarrassed, but pleased, for how Fred and George had seen his idea for what it was. Charlie, however, wasn't put off.

"Listen, ginger-lion," he began.

"Ginevra." Ginny said, speaking at last, her tone icy.

"Huh…?" Charlie said thickly.

"You've lost the right to call me 'Ginger-lion'." Ginny said, "It's Ginevra to you now." Though Charlie's idea had rattled and angered the group, Ginny's comment had taken them by surprise. It was common knowledge that Ginny didn't like her given name and disliked anyone calling her that, and had never asked her family to call her 'Ginevra'.

"Okay…_Ginevra_," Charlie said. Everyone was quick to note that his voice was becoming icy too, "I understand how you feel about Harry, but…surely you must see how much danger he puts you in…I mean, he-who-must-not-be-named has been hunting him since he was a baby. I…I just don't want you to go down with him, should he fall. I love you, Ginevra, and I'm scared for you to die. Please, promise me that you'll break it off with him." Ginny gave a mirthless laugh.

"And break our hearts? Cast him out into a loveless world when he needs just that? Fred's right, Charlie, you do sound like Percy. I thought we were all agreed that we can only fight Voldemort—oh, get a _grip_!" Ginny said dispassionately, when Charlie had violently shuddered at the name, "if we showed tough bonds of love and trust? And you propose casting Harry away? Tell me, Charlie, what is your dearest ambition?"

"Huh?"

"If you are suggesting that I break it off with Harry, you must be a Death Eater under the effects of Polyjuice potion."

"I take it you do not like my…"

"Of course I don't!" Ginny said, her voice rising to, then surpassing, a scream, "Your idea is bollocks, Charlie! Not only are you dishonoring Harry by downplaying what he's done for us, not to mention what he did for the entire wizarding world, you're breaking our hearts! I can't believe you think so low of me, or that you think I'm unaware of the dangers that are associated with Harry! If you love me, then prove that you can understand why I need him in my life."

"Ginevra…"

"Go away! Just go away and leave me the hell alone! Honestly, who are you and what have you done to my brother Charles Weasley?" Tears were again flowing from Ginny's eyes as she turned her back on her second eldest brother, the only one besides Bill to give her a nickname. A nickname, moreover, that she was very fond of, but if he was going to act like this…well, he couldn't call her 'Ginger-lion' anymore.

"Come here, Ginny." Tonks said compassionately, steering Ginny towards her bedroom.

Charlie watched her go, thinking. As a way to be an animal-loving big brother, Charlie had asked all of his younger siblings when they were young what animals they envisioned themselves being if they were to become Animagi. Percy, Fred, George and Ron had all given varying, colorful answers. Ron, who had been three at the time, had started by saying that he would be a Hippogriff, then a Polynesian Blueback dragon all the way down to—the twins thought he had hit rock bottom—a Flobberworm. Charlie had asked Ginny when she was four, and although she had been jumping up and down in a four year old's enthusiasm at the time, she answered, quite sincerely,

"I be a cat!" Charlie had watched her over the years, and had observed that Ginny had many feline personality traits. She was boisterous, adventurous, determined, feisty, loyal, caring and loving, and occasionally, when occasion warranted, vain and arrogant, and managed all these traits with awe-inspiring grace. In many ways, she seemed, again like a feline, to be one of the most secure family members, but now, she was crushed, no longer the secure, feline-like girl she had been growing up, but a insecure, emotionally beat young woman. Charlie knew that the war was mostly to blame, especially having been hit by that curse, but he knew now that a part of that might just been because of him. His over-protectiveness had carried him a bit far and placed him against her in a time when they all needed each other's support more than ever.

"Charles, son, can you come over here, please? I would like to talk to you." Mr. Weasley said, snapping Charlie out of his reverie.

Up in Ginny's room, Tonks was trying to comfort a very distraught, quietly sobbing Ginny, her arms around Ginny in a gentle embrace.

"Why is he being so thick?" Ginny sobbed, "Charlie's always had so much more sense than this. I don't understand why he is trying to get me to break up with Harry. Surely he must know, or at least understand how much I love him."

"I think he does," Tonks said easily, "but I think he's showing, just like you so eloquently said earlier tonight, his fear about you, or really any of his family, come to that, dying. I am guessing that Charlie being the brother he is, places your safety first and foremost in a case like this, and anything as trivial as your love for someone just plays second fiddle to keeping you safe." Ginny snorted.

"Well, that's as stupidly noble as Harry has a tendency to be," Ginny said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, "that's what Harry said to me last year when he told me that we had to break up. And now I'm just a lonely, incomplete fool thanks to both Harry and Charlie."

"You know, Ginny," Tonks said, badly suppressing a note of amusement, "if you think Harry has a bad nobility complex, I can honestly tell you, he's not nearly as bad as Remus. And despite what you said at dinner," she suddenly became serious again, "I don't feel complete without Remus, either, and I know how you feel." Seeing Ginny's glare, she quickly added, "I know you'll say that we're married and that I can draw strength from that, and I suppose I do, but you're engaged to Harry, which is the same difference, really. I do not doubt Harry loves you any less now than when he brought you along with him, nor do I think that Charlie thinks ill of you, they're just scared. If Harry is anything like Remus, he'd rather be able to fix an image of you here, safe, sound and happy rather than having you with him, and him fretting about what could happen to you the moment he turns his back."

"I still say that's stupid," Ginny said, "I'm more scared now than I ever was with him. Now the only thing I can do is to imagine what will happen to him. How am I supposed to be happy when I don't even know if he's living or dead?!"

"It is stupid," Tonks agreed, "but you and I know that Harry and Remus love us, and we can take strength from that."

"You're right, I suppose, that I can draw strength from my love from him, and feel secure in our engagement. Thank you, Tonks." Ginny said. Tonks smiled.

"You are a very strong witch, Ginny," Tonks said, "I know you will be okay. I know you will _want _to be okay, for Harry. I want to be okay for Remus, too. Never forget, either, that should you ever need me, I'm only a fireplace away. Now, what do you say we tuck you into bed? You won't be doing yourself any favors by staying up." Ginny nodded, and pulled on a nightgown and got into bed.

"I never realized," Ginny said as Tonks moved toward the door, her voice cracking and tears welling in her eyes, "Hermione isn't my only sister; you are too."

"And you are a sister to me, too," Tonks replied, "Goodnight, Ginny."


	23. Chapter 23: Dumbledore's Helping Hand

TWENTY-THREE: Dumbledore's helping Hand

Harry apparated into the living room of the Burrow just as Mr. Weasley had finished talking to Charlie, leaving Charlie feeling quite stupid.

Charlie had never quite heard his father talk the way he had. It was true that Mr. Weasley, even when he was furious at his children was not the one to yell. Usually Mrs. Weasley was the one who used her voice, and yet in its own right, the soft, disappointed tone that Mr. Weasley used to confess to Charlie that he was ashamed, was worse than Mrs. Weasley's shouting. He couldn't understand why his father reiterating everything both Harry and Ginny had said when he'd told them he thought they ought to break up struck him as being true, when he couldn't see it as being so when Harry and Ginny had said the same stuff.

"Look at me, Charles, and tell me if you think that, even in a time like this, Ginny deserves to be with Harry." Mr. Weasley had said.

"No," Charlie responded, knowing his father would see right through him.

"Don't lie to me, Charles."

"I'm not." Charlie said defensively.

"Yes, you are. I know you know better than to assume that you can get Harry and Ginny to break up. Only they can do that. Your mother, your brothers and I can suggest the type of man we'd like to see Ginny go out with, we can give our opinions on her choice of boyfriend, but we cannot tell her heart who to fall for, nor can we tell her what to do with the man she loves. Also, we are in a war. A war centered around you-know-who, who has probably affected Harry and Ginny more strongly than the rest of us, and they can thus find comfort in each other during a time that is so wrought with trouble, fear, and insecurity for all of us.

"However heartfelt and noble your motives tonight may have been Charlie; however much you may have spoken from your heart, you still went against all that, and rather than solve anything, you have, and I know you know this to be true, hurt your sister. I am frankly ashamed of you, Charlie. I raised you better than this. I raised you and your brothers and sister to acknowledge and accept each other's independence. Now, tomorrow, I want you to apologize to your sister, and Harry, if you get the opportunity. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Charlie said meekly. He had truly been a fool, and regardless of how true his father's words were, he still wanted to carry out his plans, but he knew he could not. Mr. Weasley studied Charlie for a moment, trying to determine Charlie's sincerity. Deciding he was being sincere, Mr. Weasley offered his son a small nod while gazing into the fire.

"Well then, son, goodn—" of course, Harry had to choose this moment to appear. Charlie and Mr. Weasley glanced at him for a second. Mr. Weasley remained seated, but Charlie headed for the stairs, apologizing quickly to Harry as he passed. Harry looked at Mr. Weasley, who did not return his glance, maintaining his gaze on the fire. Finally, Harry spoke.

"Er…Arthur…I'm here to see Ginny…is she here?" Mr. Weasley nodded to the fire.

"She's sleeping." Harry nodded.

"Listen, I know I've been a bit of a git…but I just wanted to see her…and…reassure her." Mr. Weasley nodded again, but said nothing. Taking that as assent, Harry moved towards the stairs. He had put his left foot on the bottom stair when Mr. Weasley spoke again.

"You're not going to take her back, are you?" Harry paused for a few moments, and then turned his gaze back to Mr. Weasley, who kept his eyes focused on the fire.

"Er…no, sir." Harry responded uncomfortably. Mr. Weasley nodded, his head now slightly inclined towards Ginny's room.

"Try not to wake her," was all he said as he got up from the sofa in front of the fire and walked back towards the kitchen. Harry knew that the Weasleys, most noticeably, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been cool towards him since the accident, and had not approved of his actions since, but he still felt a slight pang of irritation that Mr. Weasley had not even spared him the courtesy of looking at him, so that he was forcibly reminded of his fifth year, when Dumbledore seemed to not be able to spare him a glance throughout one of his most difficult years at Hogwarts, and Mr. Weasley's actions left him feeling just as confused, wrong footed and hurt as Dumbledore had made him feel that year. Trying not to dwell on that, he continued to climb to Ginny's room.

Quietly pushing her door open, he stepped into the room, and noticed Ginny sleeping. He was quick to note that while Ginny was as wonderfully beautiful and adorable as ever, she looked horribly uncomfortable. She was scrunched up in the fetal position, her covers having been thrown off of her in an obvious fit of movement, and though it was dark, Harry could tell that her body was covered in sweat, and that her brow was furrowed in what was clearly pain. Harry's heart broke to see her like that, knowing it was him, in part, who had caused her pain.

"Everything will be all right, Ginny," Harry muttered, "I will return for you, I promise." He bent down and kissed her gently on her exposed cheek. She immediately began to relax; her body slowly reverted to its original position. Harry grinned as she stretched her legs like a cat. A small smile played over her lips, and Harry could have sworn he heard her mumble his name. Smiling, Harry brought the covers back over her and left the room to apparate back to where Hermione, Ron and Lupin were waiting.

Ron, Hermione and Lupin were in a deep sleep when Harry arrived, for which he was thankful, not wanting to answer any questions they—though most likely Hermione—would have for him. Instead, he was quite happy to bunk down for the night, and let them question him in the morning.

Sure enough, as the four sat down to breakfast the next day, Hermione did indeed want to talk to Harry about Ginny, but the way she approached the subject was not at all what Harry had anticipated. Ron, who was now quite proficient at reading nonverbal cues from Hermione, left to join Lupin in the kitchen.

"How was Ginny?" Hermione asked, the moment Ron and Lupin were safely out of earshot. Harry shrugged. He did not much feel like describing the obvious pain that Ginny's body had suggested as he had watched her sleep, before he had kissed her. Hermione seemed to know what Harry was thinking.

"Listen, Harry," Hermione said, "I know it is hard to talk about Ginny, but she is my best friend and is like a sister to me, and I want to know how she is."

"It _is _hard to talk about her, Hermione, and I don't want to," Harry said, "I can't stand to relive her in such pain, and know I caused it." Hermione frowned.

"You're not blaming yourself are you?" She asked Harry quietly.

"If I hadn't taken her along, this never would have happened, Hermione." Harry answered.

"Maybe you're right, Harry," Hermione responded, "but you are not at fault for what happened. The Death Eater who hit Ginny with that curse is to blame. No more should you go feeling guilty," Hermione added, correctly interpreting Harry's downcast expression, "I bet that curse was intended to hit any one of us, and I would say it hit Ginny by pure chance."

"Chance? Do you think there is such a thing with the Death Eaters?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Yes," Hermione responded, "they seem almost desperate now. They're attacking totally randomly, and won't approach _anyone _without an unfair advantage in numbers. There were about fifty, I'd say, when they captured mum and dad."

"Cowards." Harry sneered.

"Yes, they are." Hermione agreed, smiling humorlessly.

"I didn't know Gin was like your sister."

"Yes, Harry, she is. I get along with Parvati Patil okay, and I got along with Lavender until…well, you know, but Ginny was the only one who cared enough to actually lend a truly sympathetic ear, she was the only girl I've ever known who I feel comfortable to confide in, and she can make me laugh even in situations when I'm completely down. I even had a mild fever just before the Quidditch World Cup, and I was back on my feet just in time for your arrival, thanks to her care. I love her, Harry. Please, I know how hard it must be for you to talk about her, but you know more than we do, Harry, and I really want to know how she is."

"Actually, Hermione," Harry said, measuring his words, "I don't know all that much. I left before the Healer had actually given a complete diagnosis, other than Gin being in a coma, with all her organs working as they should, but I don't know the details of the curse itself. All I know was that I got a letter yesterday from Molly saying that Gin had recovered, and wanted to see me. I went to her side last night, and she was in pain, Hermione. That's all I know." Hermione nodded.

At that moment, just as Hermione was about to say something else to Harry, Ron and Lupin returned from the kitchen, both looking severely shaken.

"What's wrong, Remus?" Hermione asked kindly. Lupin seemed unable to speak, however. Hermione silently appealed to Ron, but he just shook his head, eyes wide and somewhat moist.

"Moony?" Harry said cautiously, for he had never seen his former teacher, and the one who was as good as his uncle so upset, "Moony…what's…?"

"Here, look at this." Lupin said, holding out to Harry what appeared to be a letter. The neat, slanted writing was familiar.

_Dear Harry,_

_I would be delighted to secure a meeting with you at the Headmistress' office at Hogwarts at noontime today to discuss your quest._

_Hoping you are well (and haven't eaten too many Ginger Newts)_

_Yours faithfully,_

_A.D._

_P.S. The Wards and protective spells around the castle have been modified to accommodate you. _

Harry's hand shook as he lowered the missive.

"But…but…he's dead." Harry spluttered, his eyes now looking exactly like Ron's, "do you reckon his portrait can write letters?"

"No," Hermione said, cutting off Lupin, who had also had opened his mouth to respond, "I suppose the portrait must have dictated this letter to McGonagall."

"But the handwriting's _his_, Hermione." Ron said gruffly, "I'd recognize it anywhere from the times he wrote back to me after I'd written to him with pleas to remove Harry from those bloody Muggles."

"Language, Ron," Hermione reprimanded quietly.

"We should be going if we want to make it there in time," Lupin said, "it's almost twelve o'clock."

"Yeah," Harry said, "he'll be expecting us."

The group arrived at Hogwarts with a mere ten minutes to the hour, and hastened towards the gates of Hogwarts, all of them feeling remarkably nervous and unsure, not speaking and merely strolling with purposeful strides towards the building. No one spoke until they were standing in front of the gargoyle that guarded the stairway that led to Dumbledore's, now McGonagall's office.

"Er…does anyone know the password?" Ron asked nervously, as he was the one closest to the gargoyle. Harry squared his shoulders and stepped up beside Ron.

"Ginger Newt." Harry said firmly to the gargoyle, which proceeded to move aside, allowing the group access to the circular stairway behind it. They climbed until they reached the top, and Ron, still in the lead, rapped on the door with the Griffin knocker.

Though no one had given any sign of acknowledgement, the door opened, and the group stepped inside, to take in the picture before them. Harry had expected McGonagall to be there, but she was not. Hagrid was there, and on the other side of McGonagall's desk was a man who Harry was pretty sure was the bartender for the lesser-known pub in Hogsmeade, the Hog's Head. Just above the desk was Dumbledore's portrait. Unlike the other portraits of previous Hogwarts heads, Dumbledore was not, at the moment, snoozing. He smiled as the group approached the desk.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione, Remus. It's good to see you again." Dumbledore said.

"Yeah, it's good to see you, too, Professor," Harry said, something suddenly seeming to pull at his heart, "er…I…could you please excuse me for a moment…um, I need the loo." Without waiting for an answer, Harry left.

When he was at about the third step from the bottom of the stairway, he allowed himself to slouch up against the wall, a sob escaping from him. He had not truly had the opportunity to grieve for Dumbledore, with everything that had happened the night he was killed, and even at the funeral and afterwards, he allowed himself to doubt that night, and forced himself to believe that Dumbledore had not died, and then with all that had happened between himself and Ginny, and the battles he had already fought had kept him from thinking about Dumbledore, and now, looking at the portrait that so resembled Dumbledore in looks and personality, reality had dealt him a serious blow, and he could no longer deny the truth that he had staunchly denied until this moment.

Then, a rather massive, yet comfortingly warm, hand enclosed on Harry's shoulder, and he looked up to see Hagrid, whose hairy face had a look that clearly said to Harry that he was not the only one who would miss Dumbledore, and that what he was feeling was okay. Hagrid bent down so that Harry could cry onto his shoulder for a few minutes. Harry was grateful to Hagrid, and when he had regained a measure of control, he allowed Hagrid to guide him back up the stairs and into the office. Ron and Hermione had been conversing with Dumbledore when Harry entered, and Ron had given Harry an understanding look, while Hermione had given him a quick hug, and then the three turned their attention back to the portrait.

"May I introduce my brother, Aberfourth?" Dumbledore said, gesturing to the bartender of the Hog's Head. Harry, Hermione and Ron's jaws dropped. _So that's why he looked so familiar,_ Harry thought, _when Hermione had us meet at the Hog's Head when we were setting up the DA._ Aberfourth Dumbledore merely nodded.

"We decided," Albus Dumbledore's portrait continued, "to give you something that may help you with your hunt for Voldemort's Horcruxes, though, if I may say so, if what Minerva has read out to me from the _Daily Prophet _is true, you've been doing splendidly without me." He beamed at them. "Nevertheless, I have decided to bequeath the journal my brother and I have compiled on the subject. I daresay you may very well find useful information within it."

"A journal?" Hermione said, "that sounds interesting, how did you do it?"

"Well," Aberfourth Dumbledore explained, "it isn't easy being overshadowed by your older brother—" Aberfourth chuckled at the knowingly sympathetic look on Ron's face "—yes, Albus thought that you'd sympathize, young Weasley, but living with Albus, he taught me that there are great advantages to having a more powerful, known brother. Namely, once he told me of his theories behind how he-who-must-not-be-named made himself immortal, he knew that I could get away with a lot of things, some nearly illegal, that he could not do himself because of his profile within our communities. Between him knowing a lot of the upper echelon, as well as Tom Riddle himself, and me being an unknown who works at a bar that is an absolute haven for gossip, not to mention frequented by a few more loudmouthed Death Eaters, we were able to put together a journal that contained likely leads on his various Horcruxes."

"Me an' Olympe—Madam Maxime to yeh lot—have jus' found some more recent developments which might be helpful." Hagrid added proudly.

"So tell me," Albus Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his eye, even if it was a mere portrait, more pronounced than ever, "which Horcruxes have you yet to find?"

"We're down to the cup and the snake." Harry answered. Simultaneously, both Dumbledores nodded.

"After Slytherin's locket, the most heavily protected." Albus Dumbledore said, nodding. "Have you noticed that the protection on the various Horcruxes differs?" Everyone nodded.

"But why?" Lupin said, voicing the question that everyone wanted to know, "I don't understand why he would have guarded some more jealously than others."

"I believe," Albus Dumbledore said, "as I've explained to Harry, that Voldemort believed that only he knew about his Horcruxes. Nevertheless, I believe that when he was first starting to make his Horcruxes he may very well have been prepared to bet that someone might discover his secret, and exploit it, and thus wanted to make sure that his concealed soul fragment would be as heavily guarded as possible. I have reason to believe that the ring and the cup were some of his first. As he made more Horcruxes, however, I expect his confidence that he alone knew his secret grew, and he didn't feel that he needed to protect his soul fragments so heavily."

"Then why were the snake and the locket so heavily protected?" Harry asked.

"I maintain that Voldemort was about as fond of his snake as he can be of anything, therefore when he opted to make her into a Horcrux, I think he wanted to make sure that she, as well as the soul fragment within her, would be as safe as possible. Likewise, I believe he was immensely proud of his relation to Slytherin, and thus, perhaps felt it a way of honoring his ancestry by making the locket, an heirloom of great significance both to his family and culturally, as safe as possible." Ron shuddered. Apparently what the locket had done to Hermione was still fresh in his mind. Hermione reached up and put her arm around his back, and nuzzled her head against his shoulder. Albus Dumbledore's portrait beamed at them.

"I am very proud of everything you four have managed to accomplish. You have clearly earned your right to my journal. Without further ado, I bequeath my work to you. Use it well to bring Tom Riddle down for good." Aberfourth Dumbledore reached into his robes and pulled out a voluminous leather-bound book, and handed it to Hermione, who eagerly began reading.

"Thank you very much, Albus." Lupin said. He and the others got up from their chairs.

"Good luck." Albus Dumbledore said. Lupin, Harry, Ron and Hermione all turned, waved farewell, and departed.


	24. Chapter 24: The Cup and the Moon

TWENTY-FOUR: The Cup and the Moon

"_Rhyl Times, Fri. May 7th, 1996 C6_

_MYSTERIOUS CUP TO BE HELD AT MARKET STREET SHOP; EVALUTAED FOR PRICE_

_By Jeff Kelly. _

_Today's highlight piece has come to our attention from a certain Davy Smith, of St. Andrews, Scotland. It is a cup that bears a curious symbol unknown to most of the local antiques experts. Mr. Smith had come for an appraisal of the artifact before selling it to a cousin who lives in southern Rhyl, in Wales. The best estimate of the value of the artifact is around £500. Mr. Smith has asked that the artifact be held at a specific antiques shop on Market Street, Rhyl, Wales. A representative of the shop is asked to respond to __JkellyRhyltimes.nws/antiques_

_The name of Mr. Smith's cousin is believed to be Kieran McDermott._"—from Albus and Aberfourth Dumbledore's Horcrux journal, p. 210

It seemed odd to Harry, Ron, Hermione and Lupin that this particular page, under the heading of 'Hufflepuff's Cup', should be a newspaper clipping, moreover, a newspaper clipping from an obviously Muggle newspaper, and yet, the whole book seemed to be made out of such types of clippings that possessed leads on any of the Horcruxes, though occasionally containing an actual entry by one of the two Dumbledore brothers, conveniently organized by which Horcrux the clue referred to.

Nevertheless, the clipping was enough of a hint that the group was able to piece together what they needed to do. Basically, the only thing that the newspaper had said that the group did not know was the name of the cousin of the contact that Charlie had put them in touch with, who had not remembered which cousin he had given the cup to, as well as the town where he resided. It was unfortunate, though, when Hermione turned the page and discovered a clipping from the very same newspaper that told of a rather unusual, though violent battle that had occurred not long after the cup had been appraised by the antiques collector. Yet since there didn't seem to be any other solution, though by the article Hermione had read, there was a chance that Kieran McDermott was dead, Lupin braved making an appearance in the town square to use a public phone box to call for a cab to take them to the nearest airport so that they could fly to Cardiff, then take another cab from there to Rhyl.

In the end, the train may have been a smarter choice, for not only did the tickets prove costly (thankfully, Harry, in an unusual moment of quick thinking, had secretly written to Gringott's the night before they had left, asking for a sizable amount of his gold to be exchanged for Muggle Pounds, and he had sent Hedwig to Gringott's to collect, and return to him, the exchanged money), but both Ron and Hermione had become a bit ill flying. Ron, who had never even seen an airplane in his life, was fascinated (and was sure his dad would die of jealousy could he see the plane), but having never had to endure the particular movements of a plane, became rather nauseous during takeoff and landing, as had Hermione, though she knew exactly how airplanes worked, still suffered from a rather intense fear of heights. She had spent most of the journey with her head buried in Ron's chest and her eyes shut tight, though she regretted it, for she was immediately accosted with memories of her father holding her securely, yet gently, and softly singing and whispering comfort to her when her family had flown to America for the dental affairs conference in Boston. She had then, and was now, rather embarrassed by her fears, feeling childish, but then she had her father, and now she had Ron, but nevertheless, it was obvious when they landed in Cardiff, that both Ron and Hermione were happy to be back on solid ground.

There wasn't a cab that could take them all the way from Cardiff to Rhyl, so they had to make do with a train. Harry had to admit, as he followed Lupin onto the coach, that he could not have possibly envisioned the hunt for the Horcruxes to be so exhausting, but it most certainly was, and no sooner had the train begun to move, then he, Ron and Hermione were soon fast asleep, Hermione on Ron's lap, and Ron and Harry using each other's heads for pillows. Lupin, on the other hand, was in a discussion with the man that sat on the other side of the aisle from them.

"Hello," the man said conversationally, having caught Lupin's eye, "I'm Terrence Victor."

"Hello, Terrence, I'm Roger Labrador," Lupin responded, deciding to stick with Harry's pseudonym for him.

"What do you do, Roger?" Terrence asked.

"I'm a…er…martial arts teacher."

"I'm a paramedic from Texas," Terrence responded, "and the British government has been after all sorts of medical personnel from all over the world to go, as I notice you seem to be yourself, to Rhyl. There's like some sort of civil war going on there or something."

"Really?" Lupin said, now genuinely interested, "what do you know about it?"

"Not a heck of a lot," Terrence replied, "you see, Roger, apparently there have been all sorts of mysterious deaths going on there for who knows how many years, but the thing is, no one can determine how everybody has been dying, so this whole affair has been the sight of a lot of rather intense medical curiosity, and the USA has offered their services in helping solve this mystery." Lupin wasn't sure how much he liked Terrence, who seemed a little full of himself and his nationality, and yet his tale had helped Lupin solidify a hypothesis he had made about the Horcrux after Hermione had read out the second article.

Something about how both the article Hermione had read, as well as the way Terrence had spoken of the killings, Lupin could easily deduce that this was a wizard's battle, for there were too many unknowns that the Muggle doctors could not find answers for. Lupin also found it very unusual that the cup had found its way back to the family that Voldemort initially stole it from. It was uncharacteristic of Voldemort to be so lenient with his Horcruxes, and in Lupin's mind, there was a connection between the mystery deaths and the cup being back in possession of those in Hepzibah Smith's family line, but he could not think what the connection was. It made sense that it was a foolish move on Davy Smith's part to have the cup appraised at a Muggle antiques shop, for a three year old could have told you that Voldemort would have made sure that no Muggle could touch anything, be it a Horcrux or a simple article of clothing, that belonged to him, and if a Muggle did touch a possession of Voldemort's, they would doubtlessly suffer consequences far too ghastly to imagine.

About five hours later, the train pulled into the station at Rhyl, waking Harry, Ron and Hermione. They quickly gathered their luggage and got out, leaving the station. As they looked at the town, it was plain that no one had any idea as to how they would find Kieran McDermott.

"Let's find Market Street. If we can, I suspect that someone there will be able to direct us." Harry said, thinking hard. So the group set off towards the town, and found Market Street, easily the most notable street around, due to the outdoor markets that were there. The group stopped at a cafe, to ask for the antiques shop.

"Hello, can I help you?" The chef, who was outside with a busboy, asked, in a rich Italian accent.

"Yes, we just wanted to know—we're not local, you see—the location of an antiques store supposedly on this street. We are antiques collectors, you see, and we follow a lot of newspapers that have antiques columns, and the local newspaper here mentioned an artifact we're interested in." Lupin explained. The chef looked thoughtful.

"There are several shops here," he said, "I'm afraid you will have to be more specific." The group glanced uneasily at each other, not knowing how much to reveal. Fast thinking as always, Hermione withdrew the Horcrux journal, and moving herself so that the chef could not see the book, being certain that Muggles rarely saw books so old, took out the article and handed it to the man. After reading it to himself for a moment, he nodded, handing the article back to Hermione.

"You want Bowser and Howard, ltd. I'd say they're the most prestigious antiques firm in town, but you ought to be prepared to bring a lot of money if you plan to buy anything."

"Thank you," Hermione said sweetly, extending her hand to take back the newspaper clipping that the chef was holding out to her, "but we only want to talk to them about Mr. McDermott." The man nodded.

"His family frequent here, but they hardly ever talk to anyone. They're a weird bunch, and he's never with them. Seems that he is from some other, I dunno, culture or something, according to his wife. Apparently his culture forbids him to appear here, or something." The others nodded.

"Well," Lupin said casually to Ron, Harry and Hermione, "I think we'll be off."

"You'll want to go that way for a couple of blocks to get to Bowser and Howard." The chef said, pointing them in the right direction. The others thanked the chef and departed.

When they arrived, the shop's manager, the great-great grandson of Mr. Howard, the proprietor and co-partner of the original antiques firm, Mr. Howard, IV, was initially very excited to have customers so curious about the family business, but was much less enthusiastic to talk about Kieran McDermott, and the business about the cup to strangers.

"We do not share any of our clients' personal or business dealings to unapproved people." Mr. Howard said stubbornly, "we respect our clients' privacy." In the end, the group managed—without magic, which impressed Lupin—to convince Mr. Howard to at least tell them where Kieran McDermott lived, and a quarter of an hour later, they stood at his doorstep. It was plain, when he saw them, that he was not happy to have visitors.

"You're some of those Muggle po-like-men aren't you? Well I'm not letting you in, see?" Kieran McDermott said rudely, preparing to slam the door in their faces.

"No, Mr. McDermott, we aren't the police," Lupin said quickly but casually, catching the door, "and we aren't Muggles, either. We're wizards, and we need to discuss something with you." Kieran McDermott surveyed them, his eyes resting on Harry. Harry knew what was coming before it came. If Kieran was a wizard, he'd react just like so many of them did when they saw him, so he wasn't surprised when Kieran's jaw dropped a little and his eyes widened.

"All…all right, come in." Kieran said, his voice suggesting that he still thought better of it, but he nevertheless allowed the group to come across his threshold.

Once they had gotten comfortable in Kieran's sitting room, and had consumed a fair amount of tea, Lupin and Harry decided it was time to get down to business.

"Basically, Mr. McDermott," Lupin said, "we're here because a friend put us in touch with your cousin, Davy Smith, with regards about a cup that belongs to your family which we're very interested in."

"May I ask why?" Kieran said, his voice now suggesting a slight bit of fear.

"We think it may very well be a Horcrux belonging to you-know-who." Harry said bluntly. Suddenly, Kieran's cool, detached demeanor became sincerely interested.

"Really?" He said, "I used to work for the magical government in Germany, and also in Italy, and I studied Horcruxes a fair amount. So it's true then?"

"I'm afraid so," Hermione said.

"And the only way to defeat him good is to destroy all his Horcruxes…at least, that's what Dumbledore hypothesized." Ron added.

"Hypothe_sized_?" Kieran asked, noting Ron's use of the past tense.

"Didn't you hear?" Harry said quietly, "Dumbledore was murdered…by a colleague, no less."

"Well, of course I heard…but I never would have chosen…to believe…I mean, he was probably the most powerful wizard…"

"There was more to it than that," Harry said, "but the point is that he died in a quest to help rid the world of Voldemort." Kieran shuddered violently, but recovered quickly.

"Listen," he said, changing tactics quickly, "how do I know that you are really doing…a good thing?"

"Please, Mr. McDermott," Hermione said quietly, "my parents are Muggles, and the Death Eaters have already taken my dad's life. Please give us the chance to honor dad and all those other Muggles who, like him, are suffering for no reason at all." Kieran looked amazed, and simply sat for a few minutes, before getting heavily to his feet and leaving the room, returning a few minutes with the cup, safely embedded within a thick redwood box.

"I was always afraid to touch this," Kieran confessed, "when I bought it, the lads at Bowser and Howard told me that, whatever my cousin's instructions said about holding the trinket for me, they can still sell it to someone who bids higher than the face value assigned by my cousin, and they had several good offers from wealthy Muggle patrons who frequent the shop, but the Muggles who touched the cup frequently suffered either wounds and illnesses that left Muggle doctors completely at a loss, or even death."

Lupin stared at the cup for a few minutes before taking out his handkerchief and carefully removed it from the box, trying to ignore Kieran's horrified stare.

"So…now we have to destroy the cup…" Harry said quietly. He and the others quietly sat down, pondering. Hermione had opened the Dumbledore brothers' journal, looking through the section on the cup. There was nothing on how to destroy it. Frustrated, she shut the book, looking at the cup itself, and letting out a strangled cry.

The cup had filled itself with blood red liquid and she could hear all the stories and poems she liked the least within her ears, though the sensation was odd, for it felt like the sound was going out her ears, rather than entering, as though she were a music box. She was also feeling sleepy, and Ron's lap looked very appealing, his legs arranged in a way that they looked rather like a very plush pillow, and yet, Hermione knew that she must not lie down…it was dangerous…but she was so desirous of sleep…

"My god, it's a…that's a very old potion called…oh, damn it, I can't remember!" Kieran shouted exasperatedly, "Okay, listen, everyone, this is a very complicated potion, but I think I know how to weaken it. As long as it sits there in the cup, we will suffer drowsiness at the hands of our least favorite types of literature and if we fall asleep, we may never wake, but…if someone drinks it…they will quote literature at random…we have to guess it correctly, on our first try, and the poison will slowly leave…" For some reason, Kieran's words had snapped Hermione, and the others who were similarly reacting, out of their trances.

"How will that help us get to the soul?" Lupin and Harry asked incredulously

"I don't know!" Kieran cried helplessly, "but trust me that I recognize this potion! It was invented in Germany in about 459 A.D., and that is how you cure the poison."

"But then, that must mean that the soul fragment is concealed within the potion…" Lupin's voice trailed away, his face now terrified.

"Sweet Merlin…" he said in a terrified whisper, "that means…that we have to cast the extraction _and_ destruction curse at whoever drinks the potion…"

"…a coupling that can kill." Kieran finished, in an equally terrified voice. Suddenly, his eyes filled with a determined look.

"I am an old man," Kieran said, suddenly, "and I have outlived my usefulness here on earth." He turned to Hermione, "you said your father was a muggle who died in this struggle right, young lady?" Hermione nodded. "Do you think he'd object to having had a wizard be a martyr to his cause when I meet him in the afterlife?" slowly, Hermione shook her head. "Then," Kieran said, grabbing the cup in a single, fluid motion, "here's to the days ahead where you-know-who is dead and gone." He drained the cup in a single gulp. Immediately, Kieran's face became smooth, glassed over and unconcerned, and he immediately began to recite literary quotes left and right.

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…" He began in a hollow, booming voice,

"Robert Frost!" Hermione cried, desperately, suddenly knowing exactly what had to be done. Tendrils of blue smoke seemed to come off the cup and Kieran's body.

"Well, then _that's _all right, isn't it?…"

"_Bag of Bones_, Stephen King!" Harry called, remembering the book of his uncle's he had snuck from the shelves when he was eight, and his relatives were out of the house. He had been so engrossed by the book, which Uncle Vernon had clearly never read that he had failed to notice his relatives return, and had received three weeks in his cupboard for "stealing" their things.

"Thy young blessed of magic backing in thy blood, thee will venture fourth…"

"_Overture to the Wizard Opera_, Bartholomew Babbington-Whittenby, op. 1,239!" Ron called.

"In day, traveling this and that way,

In night, bathing in comfortable magical twilight…"

"_Sonnet of the Wandering Warlock_, Johann Belfry Puddlemere!" Lupin called out.

On and on it went, Kieran reciting both wizarding and Muggle literature, and the others desperately crying out the correct answers to the quotes, and each time, Kieran and the cup were becoming more and more entangled within the thick blue smoke. Suddenly, after Hermione had gotten yet another poem correct (Emily Dickenson), everyone noticed that black smoke, again rather in the shape of Voldemort was beginning to show somewhere in the region of Kieran's chest, which was slowly becoming transparent. Getting the clue, Harry and Lupin pulled out their wands and simultaneously roared out the extraction and destruction curses.

"_Extractum Soul_!"

"_Eversio Soul_!"

It was pain beyond endurance. No words could describe how Harry and Lupin felt as they fought to remain conscious.

"WHERE'S THE KNIFE?!" Harry roared, "SOMEONE'S KNIFING ME UP!! CALL THE POLICE!! CALL THE DOCTOR! _GINNY! GINNY, I'M DYING! HELP ME! HELP ME, GIN! I'M SORRY GIN, I NEVER SAID ANY OF THE THINGS I SHOULD HAVE!!!! FORGIVE ME, MY LOVE!!!!!_"

"NO...NO...STOP IT, GREYBACK!! IT HURTS, MOMMY!" Lupin was shouting desperately, "MOMMY, A DOGGY BIT ME, IT HURTS, MOMMY!!" Hermione and Ron were rooted to the spot with fear. It was clear that Harry and Lupin's magic was working on the soul, and yet the magical protection on the soul fragment was making them delerious, slowing the progress of the destruction. Without thinking, both Hermione and Ron drew thier wands, also casting the extraction and destruction curses.

Force of numbers had worked again, but only just. Hermione's extraction curse, mingled with Lupin's had managed to remove the soul fragment from Kieran's body, while the combined destruction curses of Ron and Harry managed to blow up the soul fragment, but no sooner had the soul fragment blown up that Harry, Ron, Hermione and Lupin had crumpled, unconscious and in pain.

It was two hours later that the group had regained consciousness, no longer in pain, but bearing the weighty task of explaining to a distraught Mrs. McDermott that her husband had died a brave and noble martyr for the cause of the wizarding people. Hermione had gotten another punch to the heart to have come face to face with her former best friend Emma Creek's brother, Mark. The two had spent the next hour catching up, Mrs. McDermott having turned out to have been Mark and Emma Creek's aunt, their father's sister, and Hermione had to tell Mark that his parents had been killed by the Death Eaters, and his sister had been "kissed" by a Dementor, and was locked forever in St. David's hospital. The parting of the ways for the two had not been easy, for Mark admitted that before she had gone off to Hogwarts, he had been somewhat in love with her, but now could not help but be angry with her. Hermione had understood, but hoped that Mark would come around someday.

The final blow to the group was dealt just as they were leaving. Mrs. McDermott had calmed down enough to say that she had always suspected that her husband would go a martyr, and said that she bore no hard feelings, and had hugged the group goodbye.

"Kieran told me about this Dark Lord, and he sounds bad. I wish you luck in your endeavors, and pray for you to bring him down in my husband's memory." She had said as Lupin hugged her. Lupin, however, seemed distracted, and broke the hug.

"Is that a moon chart?" He asked.

"Yes, it is." Mrs. McDermott said. Lupin traced his finger over the month, his eyes getting more and more panicked. As he landed on the current day, his eyes became their widest yet, and without a word to anyone, bolted out the door.

"What in bloody hell was that all about?" Ron said, frowning. Her face set with determination hiding her fear, Hermione pointed out the moon chart to Ron, indicating the correct date.

"Oh." Was all he said.

Tomorrow night was the full moon.


	25. Chapter 25: The Rite of the Serpent

TWENTY-FIVE: The Rite of the Serpent

"Jul. 23, 1961•Albus Dumbledore:

There is a festival that happens on the shores of Loch Tummel each year that is based on an old Scottish myth that dates back to the twelfth century. The story goes that the daughters of Iain Avall, a peasant farmer who lived by Loch Tummel, who was also a wizard, died mysteriously on the night of the full moon, when the sisters decided to go for a midnight bathe starkers to enjoy the full moon. Kathleen Avall, the elder Avall girl lived just long enough to mention that she saw an unearthly large snake approach and whisk her and her sister away to a dark castle where they were quickly poisoned. Her sister had died immediately, but Kathleen had somehow (though the details were not known) managed to escape back to the mainland and tell her horrific tale. The festival mourns the loss of these fine girls who had been set up with potentially promising careers in the Ministry of Magic, and were promised to the sons of Fudge, of Strathglass."—from Albus and Aberfourth Dumbledore's Horcrux journal, p. 912

Harry lay awake in the hotel they had set themselves up in. He read and reread the entry from the journal, trying to see how the entry by Professor Dumbledore would help them out, but his thoughts were on Lupin.

Lupin's abrupt departure had taken the group by surprise. While everyone in the group had been determined and resourceful, trying to find, and destroy the Horcruxes, Lupin had been perhaps the most so, showing an innate understanding of the protection that Voldemort had placed on his Horcruxes, and seemed to be fairly ready with a theory to destroy the soul fragments. He had also been the one who could often be the most effective person to communicate with contacts and other people who might have been able to give them a lead, displaying a perfect balance of what to reveal and what to keep secret.

Sure, Harry knew perfectly well that he, Ron and Hermione could manage on their own, and though Harry had initially thought it best to do this whole crusade on his own, it had been a very good thing that he had ended up letting his friends, and the Order of the Phoenix help him out. With their assistance, Harry and the others had been pretty timely in finding the Horcruxes, and he'd been amazed at the strength that they provided as a group, and despite all this, the group was being slowly torn apart. First Ginny had been hit by the curse, and now Lupin was forced to abandon his work because it was the full moon.

Harry sighed, closing the journal, and picking up a map of Scotland that he had wisely bought from the hotel staff when he saw them available for the tourists. As he looked over at Hermione, who was sharing her bed with Ron, Harry also realized that he missed, and needed Ginny. When he had her by his side, her presence was enough to calm him and help him concentrate on the task, and he had been able to keep his head well above water. Without her, watching his two other best friends sleeping with such careless innocence, their dreams seemingly untouched by the current state of the war, the jealousy Harry had harbored for them after Ginny had been taken ill flared up, more pronounced then ever.

He had to keep calm. Ron and Hermione were there because ever since they had met him, they had been by his side, and Ron, displaying his less apparent mature side after Dumbledore's funeral service, had sworn that he, and Hermione who had also pledged her loyalty, would continue to be by his side through the war. With a jolt, Harry realized that his jealousy for his friends was because they embodied the life Harry was so longing to have. He smiled to himself, his resolution to hunt down Voldemort had returned.

But it wouldn't be easy. If he was honest with himself, he had no idea how to find the snake, and had even less of an idea as to how to defeat Voldemort himself. Harry took one last look at his mates, and then switched off his light, turned over onto his side and closed his eyes, imagining sleeping in this same position cuddled up to Ginny once this was all over. He made a silent promise to Ginny and himself that night that he would marry her as soon as he got back to the Burrow.

The following morning saw Harry, Ron and Hermione back on the train, this time for a four day trip back up to Scotland. Harry, having exchanged enough wizarding money to pounds that the group had a small fortune befitting a successful, but not star, film actor, was able to purchase tickets for a sleeper car, for which he and the others had been grateful, not forgetting their profound exhaustion—and stiff necks—after their last trip from Scotland to Wales.

Upon their arrival, four days later, in Edinburgh, they got off the train happy to be there. Ron had complained very loudly of the food served on the train, driving Hermione just about over the brink. Harry, however, had rather enjoyed their bickering. At least it was familiar, and seemed to bring him closer to a time when he was happier. As Harry took his, Ron and Hermione's luggage from the train conductor, he noticed that their backpacks were followed off the train by numerous, more modern backpacks that looked like they might belong to some hikers. Harry hoped that the hikers to whom the other backpacks clearly belonged would be headed towards the area he and the others needed to go. It seemed likely, as there were good hiking spots in Loch Tummel. He pointed the group out to Ron and Hermione in a whisper.

Now that they could effectively blend in, Harry and the others proceeded to try and figure out what the hiking group was doing, hoping that they might be able to play along with the group so that they could get a free pass to Loch Tummel.

"Bartlett-Benson wedding party, please?" A man called. He was dressed in a very stereotypical kilt, and his Scots brogue was very thick, and Harry, Ron and Hermione could tell he was exaggerating it. An obvious tour guide. The other backpackers, who on closer inspection, looked more like wealthy Californian/Hollywood stock than the rugged mountaineers that their backpacks suggested, followed the man's voice, Harry and the others following, trying to remain inconspicuous.

"Right," the tour guide said, "my name is Joseph, and I would like to welcome you all to Scotland. I just want to tell you a few things before er go outside to the bus, which will then take us to your preplanned location of Portree…" Harry tried hard not to let his disappointment show. They were going to Portree! He and Hermione and Ron needed to get to Perthshire, where Loch Tummel was! It had seemed the perfect plan to join the hiking group from America, play along and simply disappear when they were in the right area. Harry looked over at the others. Ron seemed frankly bewildered. Hermione, on the other hand, had a determined, yet unhappy look on her face.

"You know what this means, don't you?" She said quietly to the others, "we hitchhike." Harry's face immediately mirrored Hermione's own, but Ron looked even more bewildered.

"We what?" he asked.

"We hitchhike, Ron," Harry said, "it means we walk towards our destination, trying to stop cars who might be friendly enough to give us a lift in the general direction we're traveling in." Now Ron looked rather horrified himself.

"Well, come on," Hermione said, sighing, "we can't spend all day at the station, let's go find a cab. It's a start, at least."

The cab couldn't take them all the way to Pitlochry, but the driver obligingly took them in the right direction as far out of the city limits of Edinburgh as he was allowed. Humanely, he dropped them at a small inn and tavern, for which the three, eager for lunch, were very thankful, and stepped into the tavern for a bite. They were easily the youngest patrons of the tavern, but since the atmosphere was very welcoming and cheerful, this didn't bother them as much, and the barkeep was very helpful in pointing them in the general direction of Pitlochry.

After lunch, the group immediately began to hitchhike down the road that the barkeep had said would be the best route to get to Pitlochry. At first, car after car went by, ignoring Hermione's persistent attempts to flag them down. Finally, a car stopped.

"Excuse me, sir," Hermione said politely to the driver, "are you headed in the direction of Pitlochry? We need to go there." The driver seemed to think better of it, and muttered something about them being too young to be hitchhikers, but a combination of Hermione alternately pleading and flattering the man, who couldn't have been more than two or three years older than she, Ron and Harry, and a rain shower, the young man consented.

He did not take them all the way to Pitlochry, though, but he did assure them that he lived not too far away from the town, and had brought them over half way. Hermione thanked him, and she and the others got out, though reluctantly, for the rain had started to fall in earnest now, yet the three persistently trudged down the road, getting colder and wetter by the minute. More miles walked, more complaints of sore feet, more drivers refusing to acknowledge the desperate signals Harry, Ron and Hermione were making at their cars. The pattern went on and on. The group tried to not think of how the storm, and the dramatic scenery of Highland Scotland, echoed their fears of what this last, taxing trek meant. The noise of a car coming up behind them evoked a very meek, doubting flutter of hope in Harry's stomach.

"There's another one," Ron said dispiritedly, "should we try again?"

"Don't bother," Hermione answered, bitterly, "they don't care." But apparently, the driver did care. He stopped without the signal, the car's tires squealing. It was a cozy Fiat with musical bumper stickers adorning the back.

"My word!" The driver spluttered, "what're you kids doing out here in this storm?! Where're you going? Hurry up and get in, you must be half hypothermic by now!" It did not take the group much to be persuaded. They got in, shivering against each other, and stuttering their thanks.

"Don't mention it." The driver said gruffly, "you lot going to Pitlochry?"

"Yes—achoo!—that's where we're going—achoo!" Hermione said. The driver looked at her concerned, then turned on his car's hazard flashers, popped the boot, and took out an old, slightly moldy blanket and threw it onto Hermione's lap.

"There. Kip under that while we're driving," the man said, "or I daresay you'll become sick there, young lady."

Hermione would later proudly remember the day she was picked up hitchhiking by Sir Charles Mackerras, her late father's favorite musician, who had grudgingly agreed to perform for the Avall festival.

Mackerras had brought the group to the Pitlochry inn, a very homey little family operation that was experiencing a boom, due to the popularity of the Avall festival. Harry had drunk in Sir Charles' description of the festival, mentally taking notes of what the Muggle festival represented, and where it differed from the description offered by Dumbledore's entry in his journal.

Sir Charles had tried desperately to get Harry to let him pay for their room, but Harry—amidst sneezes—had politely, but firmly, denied him, instead giving him £12 for his services. The landlord of the inn was far less eager to accommodate Harry, Ron and Hermione, due to the fact that they were so young, and without adult supervision. Sir Charles intervened, by suggesting that the inn should not only accommodate them, but provide a doctor—on the house. The landlord took one look at the quite obviously hypothermic and feverish Hermione, cuddled by a scarcely better-off Ron, and agreed, saying that both the doctor _and _the room were on the house.

The landlord showed them to their room, and left them, assuring them he would bring them a pot of steaming tea directly, and recommended that they change into dry clothes with haste. The moment he departed, Harry, Ron and Hermione did indeed strip down, not bothering to hide their bodies from each other, though Hermione did blush fiercely when Harry's eyes raked her naked body and an expression of longing crossed his face, and she shuffled off to the bathroom and returned wearing a very plush bathrobe and offered two more to Ron and Harry. Using nonverbal magic, so as to not arouse the suspicions of the inn's Muggle tenants, Harry charmed the group dry. Ron and Hermione thanked him. Still looking rather feverish, Hermione lay down on her bed, and crawled under the sheets, joined by Ron, and both quickly fell asleep.

Left to his own thoughts, as he waited for the doctor and the tea, Harry sat on his bed, pondering the things Sir Charles had told him about the festival. The Muggles did not celebrate the Avall girls' deaths in the way that wizards would, for Sir Charles had said that the girls were foreigners who rarely appeared outside of their father's homestead, but when they did, were excellent community members, especially when they turned eighteen—a year before they died—and could do just about whatever they wanted as long as their father approved, as they were considered adults by then. What the Muggles celebrated, however, was a lawsuit brought against Iain Avall, saying he had robbed the house where a famous Archbishop was staying, and the Avall girls did an admirable job in ensuring justice, though Sir Charles, much to Harry's displeasure, had not remembered what they had done. He had said that apparently, the Avall girls were considered models for the ancient Greek notion of Sirens, and apparently, the Muggle writer Homer had used them as models for the Sirens in his book, _The Odyssey_. The celebrations, according to Sir Charles, ran from nine at night until midnight. Glancing at his watch, Harry noticed it was 7:37.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door, and the landlord, followed by the town doctor, came in. The landlord set down a tray of tea and biscuits on the coffee table. The doctor gave Harry a brief lecture on the dangers of too much exposure to cold water and hypothermia, took Harry's pulse and temperature, did a quick physical examination of Harry, and recommended that he make a start on the tea while it was hot, and commended Ron and Hermione on keeping as warm as possible, and on the landlord for making them such hot, strong herbal tea in such a efficient manner.

After about an hour and a half, Hermione awoke from her nap, already seeming better, or at the very least, had a little more pink to her cheeks than before. Catching Harry's eyes, she put her finger to her lips, so that Harry would remain quiet and not wake Ron, whose snores made it obvious that he wasn't likely to get up any time soon. Harry had to hold back a laugh. He was not planning on being noisy, but he was certainly enjoying Hermione needlessly standing up for her lover, as so many lovers do.

"Can I have that?" Hermione asked in a whisper, indicating the Dumbledore brothers' journal, which Harry had unpacked and was laying at the foot of his bed. Harry passed it over.

"Thanks," Hermione said, smiling, "and can I have a cup of tea?" Obediently, Harry poured her a mug of the still steaming tea and gave it to her. Harry lay down on his bed and watched Hermione read the chapter of the journal dedicated to the snake.

"Hermione, I'm sorry for how I looked at you earlier when we were…you know, starkers." Harry said suddenly.

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione smiled, "but you don't need to apologize." Harry, however, thought different.

"It's just, I felt like…I mean…I mean, you don't turn me on, Hermione—don't get me wrong, you're a beautiful girl, and Ron has good tastes in women—I mean, you're like my sister, but even so, I don't know, Ginny's the one—"

"And therein lies your problem, right Harry?" Hermione said, cutting him off. "Please don't worry, Harry. There's nothing wrong with the way you felt."

"I know," Harry said with a sigh, "I just miss her. I've seen her starkers, and well, I guess I miss, you know, being intimate with her. I mean, not only do I love her so much, but her body is…"

"Merlin, Harry, I was hoping to wake up to you saying something else than a rhapsody on my sister's better physical features! Maybe you could have said that we were about to have dinner, or something." Ron said sleepily, badly concealing his amusement beneath the anger façade.

"Actually," Hermione said, "dinner would probably be a good idea. There's a nice pub in the inn, but let's make it quick, I think I have some theories on how to find the snake." Harry agreed, and Ron's stomach loudly pledged its support of the decision. Giggling, Hermione led the group down to the pub.

After dinner, they had returned to their room, slightly tipsy due to the three shots each of Irish coffee (Hermione had hinted that they needed to stay awake and needed the buzz, and Ron, having a fair amount of stubble on his chin was able to smoothly lie for the group, saying they were all eighteen, and the waiter did not question them) they sat down on Harry's bed and faced Hermione.

"So? What do we have to do to attract the snake?" Ron asked without preamble.

"I think," Hermione responded with a little shudder, "that we have to go swimming tonight at midnight naked like the Avall sisters."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"I was reading in Professor Dumbledore's journal, and there is precious little known about Basilisks, or any other type of magical snake, nor is there much known about Voldemort's pet snake, and yet, ever since the times of Slytherin—the time of the Avall girls—there were many disappearances that occurred at the full moon. Though not always the case, people who swam late at night often were the ones to mysteriously disappear. One of the more recent entries that Hagrid mentioned when we visited Hogwarts to pick up the journal, was by Madame Maxime, who has a friend who is a French magical historian, and is in employ of the French magical government said that the ownership and training of Basilisks or similar animals was a teaching passed down from father to son starting with Slytherin himself. Voldemort was obviously not taught this by his dad, but I am certain he would have eagerly taught himself when he learned of that particular tradition of his lineage. Apparently, a good 90 of Muggle disappearances took place right here, on this Loch. It must have been so easy for a Death Eater to Imperius a random Muggle, or a tour guide to get massive amounts of Muggles to go swimming in the Loch."

Harry was dumbfounded. Of course, everything Hermione had said made sense. It would be very easy to lure an unsuspecting Muggle to bathe in the waters of Loch Tummel, as the area was very scenic, and would be more than welcome on a hot summer day, and of course the Muggles would put down the deaths of all the victims to drowning or some other form of water-based accident.

"So now we wait." Hermione said, picking up a biscuit from the tray the inn's landlord had brought up earlier.

"Can't…can't we just do it now?" Ron asked.

"No silly," Hermione said, "honestly, weren't you listening? For this to work, we need to actually swim at midnight, and besides there's the festival. I'm sure there're numerous blokes out there who'll be completely pissed, and would do me in an instant if I were to head out to the lake completely starkers. And," she added, grinning naughtily to Harry and Ron, "I'm sure there're pissed women out there too, so I doubt you two would be much safer than me." Harry chuckled dryly. The noise from the festival was more on the plane of a carnival more than a mere festival, so it made sense that there would be much alcohol consumption.

Looking out the window, Harry realized with a jolt that he could not see where the festivities were actually taking place.

"I can't see the festival," he said uneasily.

"When does it end?" Hermione asked.

"Midnight," Harry responded.

"Harry," Ron said, "did you pack your invisibility cloak?" Suddenly, Harry had the urge to laugh, it was so absurd. Of course he had the cloak. In dark times like these, the cloak had become more than a treasured hand-me-down from his late father, or a companion to mischief making, and was more like a trusted, very helpful and useful friend. It was so simple, too, that he and the others need merely slip under the cloak at midnight as the festivities drew to a close.

Much later, Mad-Eye Moody might have been able to see the three young wizards huddled naked under Harry's invisibility cloak behind some bushes, waiting. The air seemed thick to breath as Harry, Ron and Hermione crouched there. They were tense, anxious, panicky and more than terrified. They were so close to the ultimate goal…and yet so far…feeling how tense Hermione was beside him, Ron pulled her in closer, wanting to comfort her, and receive some comfort in return. Hermione visibly relaxed, pushing herself as close to him as possible, cherishing the warmth in his embrace. Harry, too, moved in closer. Bosom to bosom, the friends waited their bonds of love and trust at their thickest, most magical as they waited for the last Muggle celebrator to leave.

"I…" Ron whispered hesitantly as the band began to noisily pack up, "it sounds silly, I know, but…er, I think we ought to pray. Erm, mum taught all of us this one for times like these." Harry and Hermione bowed their heads in assent. Ron took his friends' hands in his own, embracing them.

"'_Dear Merlin,_

_Wondrous of all wizardkind,_

_Bearer of our bodies and blood,_

_Guardian of our gifts,_

_Give us now a light that will lead us._

_Give us our love that our families may find us._

_Give us our hope that our goals might be met._

_Take our hearts and souls safely through the peril,_

_Grant us a place in your kingdom,_

_We are thine.'_"

"Amen." Hermione whispered in a shaky voice.

"Sorry?" Ron said.

"Oh…er, when Muggles pray, they always say 'Amen' to er…seal the prayer."

"Oh."

"Everyone's left," Harry said softly, "let's go."

The water was like ice, for such a warm summer day as Harry put his toes in the water. He allowed himself to wade in deep enough that the water came up to his midriff. Ron and Hermione followed, waiting for something to happen. For about fifteen minutes, nothing did, and the three just stood there, shivering in the cold water and nerves.

Suddenly, just as Dumbledore's journal entry had said, the loch began to alter its shape, the shores twisting and turning, writhing and convulsing as though the land were eager to escape something. After a few minutes, there was no shoreline at all, and though Harry, Ron and Hermione had waded no deeper into the water, and their feet were still touching bottom, the effect was as though they had been abandoned in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Suddenly, dramatically, a cloud hid the moon from them. Harry could not see Ron or Hermione, and they could not see him. It was terror beyond anything possible. Then, suddenly, Harry heard it. Strains of a poem in Parseltongue. It sounded mocking, but still possessed an almost Siren-like, charming, seductive possessive tone.

'_Adventurous three,_

_Look to find me and see,_

_A journey not defined,_

_A way through a passage not outlined._

_Follow me, but be brave, young three_

_Bravery, you know well, I value thee_

_Look to find me and see_

_Your greatest fears_

_Your eternal company_

_Look to find me,_

_A dying Portkey._

_Touch me,_

_Journeying three_

_Touch me here_

_And live for fear_

_Come and find me, young three,_

_Bravery I value thee_

_Come and find me, doomed three._'

Suddenly, Harry felt himself flung out of the water, landing hard on the shore that had just reappeared, and the cloud that had so unusually blocked the moon's light had lifted, and the moon reappeared to show the approach of none other than Voldemort's pet snake, Nagini.

He did not know how he knew, but as he watched Nagini approach, he somehow just knew that all he had to do was reach out and she would Portkey him to wherever Voldemort was waiting.

It seemed, however, that Nagini had other plans. Almost as though he were in a trance—and he probably was—Harry reached out to put a finger on Nagini's back, but in an amazingly graceful, fluid motion, she pulled away from him, causing her body to make contact with the bodies of Ron and Hermione.

What happened next rather defies description. The instant Nagini's body made contact with Hermione and Ron's, Nagini vanished, and rather than have been Portkeyed with the giant snake, Hermione and Ron remained exactly where they had been. Suddenly, there was a pop that usually accompanied someone apparating or disapparating. Harry looked over at his friends. Ron was at least two times paler than he had been when he had been hypothermic from the rain, and he was sweating and shaking, looking very feverish. Hermione was looking, if anything, worse. Her skin was clammy, cold, and a grey-green tint. She, too, was sweating, and it looked like she was in the throes of a very nasty illness that could easily take her life. If anyone asked Harry to draw a picture of eternal pain, he would have sketched Hermione and Ron in this moment.

"Ron! Are you…you…Hermione, are you two okay? Bloody hell!" For by means of an answer (which Ron could not give as he didn't seem to be able to talk) Hermione rolled over onto all fours and retched, vomiting up a rather large pool of blood, interspersed with some actual sick, but mostly blood. Harry paled, his heart doing a tattoo against his throat.

"Hermione!" Ron said croakily, and despite his fever, summoned his wand, which took him and Harry by surprise, as he had not mastered nonverbal magic.

"Accio rock!" He called. A medium sized pebble from the beach flew into his outstretched hand.

"_Portus_," Ron mumbled, then looked at Harry, "I'm s—sorry mate." Ron helped Hermione place a hand on the rock Portkey, and tapped it, transporting him to his final location, leaving Harry alone in the vices of his fate.


	26. Chapter 26: On Prejudices and Illnesses

TWENTY-SIX: On Prejudices and Illnesses

"Aug. 15: Correspondence between Hagrid and St. Mungo's officials.

Dear Mr. Hagrid,

In response to your letter inquiring about the Dark Magic that has long been associated with snakes for your Care of Magical Creatures class, I will not hide from you that there is very little known—even in my department—about these animals, however, rest assured I will try and share with you all I can, be it what I know, or what has not been classified as restricted by either the Ministry or the St. Mungo's institute.

As I'm sure you are well aware, the office of the Magical Creature Injuries Department has done extensive research on all magical creatures who posses a threat to wizardkind, including Basilisks. The Ministry has seen fit, however, that Hogwarts students are not educated in such creatures, and the dark magic the Basilisks themselves have is not widely studied or known, aside from it's method to kill, and the Ministry has made any other information irrelevant and restricted.

I am at liberty to mention that recent catalogued events show that Muggles, or Witches and Wizards of Muggle parentage are the ones most likely at risk from a Basilisk attack. What this means precisely is the means of a vigorous study by our science department.

I hope you find this letter adequate, and I apologize for not telling you more.

I am and remain,

Your humble servant,

Trevor H.G. Tybalt-Tyson,

Director, Office of the Magical Creature Injuries Department,

St. Mungo's hospital"—from Albus and Aberfourth Dumbledore's Horcrux Journal, p. 115

Ron had not chosen the location of his Portkey very well, for they had arrived about a good twenty minutes walk, and his fever was growing more and more intense, and he weaker, as the fever took control of his body. He was even forced to carry Hermione. Normally, he would be delighted to make such a romantically exciting gesture, like he always did in his summer fantasies when he was alone in his room in the Burrow when Hermione and Harry were still at their respective summer homes, but now, as she was so sick, Hermione was a very dead weight and not much company.

Finally, he arrived in front of the front door to his house. Weakly, he knocked. Ginny answered, and for a few minutes, she merely goggled at her brother and best friend.

"Ron! Is it…what're you doing…Merlin, you're _naked_! Why are…where's Har…is it you…why…what…?" Ginny spluttered incoherently, her eyes wide and fearful.

"Gin…mum." Ron croaked, gently putting Hermione down. Ginny's eyes grew to twice their size as she heard Ron's voice, and she turned and ran like the wind, calling for her mother and Mrs. Granger. Moments later, the two women were running for the door. Mrs. Weasley was not much better than her daughter in asking why Ron had so unexpectedly returned.

"Ronald! What are you…why…sweet Merlin, you're sick! Get in here where it's warm, Ronald!" At that moment, Hermione again vomited blood. Mrs. Granger took one look at Hermione, who looked like she was on her deathbed, and burst into tears.

"Baby!" Mrs. Granger reached out and enveloped Hermione into a hug. "My baby's sick! My baby's going to die!" Mrs. Granger sobbed, rocking Hermione, and kissing her left and right, "I've only known her for seventeen years! She's just a little girl and she's going to die, and I'm going to loose her like I lost Al. I'm so sorry, baby; I treated you awfully didn't I? I was a bad mum, I know it. I'm going to miss your life, baby, I'm so sorry. Please don't leave me, baby I love you, I love you so much."

Even Mrs. Weasley, who had, on and off, acknowledged her reputation amongst her family as being rather impulsive, could not help but be shocked by Mrs. Granger's sudden outburst of passion and impulsiveness. She knelt down beside Mrs. Granger, who was still sobbing, now rather hysterically, and put her arms across Mrs. Granger's shoulders.

"Shhh…Sarah, Hermione's not going to die. She'll be all right, and you most certainly have not been a bad mother to her.

"ARTHUR!" Mrs. Weasley called over her shoulder, "Arthur! Floo St. Mungo's immediately! Ron and Hermione are sick!" Mr. Weasley ran into the room. His eyes grew, mirroring his daughter's eyes, who was now steering Ron over to the couch, tears in her eyes, and nearly threw their entire flowerpot full of floo powder into the fireplace in his anxiety.

"Healer Greene, please!" Mr. Weasley called into the fireplace desperately.

"Hello, Arthur what brings you—"

"No time! Just get over here as quick as you can please! My son and his fiancée are sick! We need you now!"

"I'll be right there," Healer Greene responded assuredly.

Moments later, Healer Greene did indeed arrive, and wasted no time in locating Ron and Hermione. Quickly and efficiently, he ran diagnostic spells over the two.

Ron's case was not at all serious, according to the Healer, and he pushed a cup of Pepperup Potion into Ron's hands, which to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's delight, had Ron restored to full health, though he was still smoking at the ears from the potion, and still looked deathly anxious, but this was because the Healer could not seem to make up his mind about Hermione. In the end, he had Mrs. Granger, who was still cuddling Hermione, and had wrapped her tightly in a blanket, to accompany him to a bedroom where he could examine her privately.

After they had gone, Ron quickly summoned some clothes from his room and put them on, and began to pace. Ginny did not join him, but she seemed unusually introverted, and kept shooting glances towards Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's bedroom, where Healer Greene had gone with Mrs. Granger and Hermione. After a few minutes, the Healer reappeared, looking grave.

"I do not know exactly what Ms. Granger here was hit by," Healer Greene said solemnly, "but it is not good. I've put her to bed with a draft of dreamless sleep potion, and given her something for the blood vomiting, however, it looks like she may be paralyzed from her chest down. I do not think it will be permanent, but nevertheless, I am prescribing a muscle toning potion that may help." Ron stopped pacing, and sat down by his sister, feeling like he had been transfigured into an ice cube, and he was wondering how much more grief he could take before he lost his ability to feel. Healer Greene looked like he wanted to say more, but Mr. Weasley shook his head, inclining it slightly towards the fireplace. He could tell that the Healer wanted to question Ron about how he and Hermione had been injured, and he could tell that Ron did not want to talk about it. Reluctantly, Healer Greene obeyed, and flooed back to St. Mungo's.

After the Healer left, Ron went into his parents' room to see Hermione. There on the bed was Hermione, who had been dressed in loose fitting clothes, cuddled closely by her mother, and both were asleep, and both were in pain. It was cute, but very sad. Ron wouldn't bother them. He could see Hermione in the morning. He left the bedroom to find Ginny awaiting news, and her turn to see Hermione. Ron shook his gently and steered Ginny back to the living room. Right now Hermione and her mother needed time to themselves.

As she awoke with a start the next morning, Hermione realized with a jolt that she could not move her legs, nor could she feel them, regardless of how hard she tried.

"Mum?" Hermione called desperately.

"Baby? Are you awake?" Mrs. Granger said behind her.

"Mum! I can't move my legs! I can't feel them!"

"Oh baby," Mrs. Granger said sadly, rolling Hermione over to face her, "I'm so sorry. The doctor…or whatever is you call them…came over last night and said that whatever made you ill has paralyzed you from the chest down…not permanently, but…" Mrs. Granger's voice fell away as Hermione looked desperately at her, her eyes brimming with tears. Automatically, it seemed, Hermione, like she had so many times as a little toddler, reached out for her mother with her arms, needing to be embraced by her, cuddled and comforted. Mrs. Granger did not hesitate, and pulled Hermione to her, cuddling her and gently rocking her as Hermione cried.

As Mrs. Granger held Hermione as she quietly wept, she felt terribly helpless. She could not understand a thing the doctor had done or said that last night, nor did she understand how Hermione was taken ill in the first place. There was so much of her daughter's dual existence that it seemed Mrs. Granger could barely keep up with her daughter or truly understand her. It was horrible for her to be the one Hermione turned to for that special type of comfort, and know that she could not fully give it to her. All those times that Hermione had needed her so badly, and their two cultures stood in their way.

It was a good feeling for Mrs. Granger to once again be able to comfort Hermione, which had been something she had missed to the point of almost feeling physically ill, but at the same time, the insecurities about herself that she had felt the night previously came back to her, and while she was more than happy to comfort Hermione, now that Hermione's sobs were receding, she needed, in turn, to be comforted and find reassurance.

"Hermione…" Mrs. Granger felt nervous and anxious asking the question, but knew that she would be happier for hearing Hermione's answer, "do you…er…you do love me, right?" Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Of course I do, mum! Why do you ask?"

"It's just…it's like I said last night, isn't it? I haven't been a good mum to you. I was never there when you needed me. I mean, I remember when you wrote me saying you had experienced your first period, and I couldn't be there to congratulate you. I wanted to be there to hug you, tell you how happy I was that you had made such a big stride into womanhood, advise you…I wanted to be there for you when you needed me about Ron, and I was always so busy with work, even before you went off to school, and then I often was rather smothering in my affections…"

"And yet, when I returned, you were there," Hermione cut her mother off, "You may not have been there when these things happened, mum, but you were always there afterwards. You were always there to pick me up from school, I mean, you made a better effort than dad to get home early for me, and never hesitated to comfort me if I had been teased or bullied, and when I spent my summers with you, you gave me great advice on Ron. It was my fault that I didn't apply any of your suggestions. When I had my period, you hugged me the first moment you could after the incident, and told me how happy you were and offered great advice and that was good enough for me. Besides, any wizard or Muggle mother who sends their kids to a boarding school feels the same. I doubt it was any easier for Mrs. Weasley to miss out on the same moments in Ginny's life. I don't want you to doubt yourself, mum, I love you more than anything, and you have been a wonderful mother to me. As for being overly affectionate, well…I can't remember complaining…or at least, even if I did when I was older, I never truly meant it. I've always cherished your and dad's hugs more than anything.

"Even now you're here. I'm bloody paralyzed, but I'm here in your arms. You're here when I've received perhaps the gravest injury of my life and if that isn't a sign that you're the best mum I could have, I don't know what is."

"Language, Hermione!" Mrs. Granger reprimanded quietly. Hermione looked at her mother's expression and burst out laughing. Mrs. Granger was shocked for a few minutes, but as the absurdity of it all sunk in, she too began to laugh, feeling almost elated from her laughter and her daughter's reassurances.

"I miss the days when you and dad would cuddle me by the fire so that I could relax and go to bed when I was little," Hermione said after she and her mother had calmed down a bit.

"Me, too, baby," Mrs. Granger replied.

"Can you just hold me here for a few minutes so I can relax like in those days?" Hermione asked timidly.

"I'm in no hurry," Mrs. Granger replied, "though I do know that were I Ron, I'd want to know sooner than later how my ill fiancée is faring."

"I know," Hermione said, "but I just want to calm down with you right now. I can, can't I?" She added; a hint of worry in her voice. Mrs. Granger pulled Hermione to her in a strong, gentle hug.

"Of course you can, baby," Mrs. Granger whispered.

A few minutes later, Hermione had calmed down to the point where she wanted to see Ron and the others, and asked her mother if she would carry her out. Mrs. Granger willingly obliged, and took her out to the living room, sitting down on the couch, lying Hermione across her lap.

"Hey, Mione," Ron said, sitting down beside Mrs. Granger and stroking Hermione's hair, kissing her forehead, "I've been so worried. Healer Greene either couldn't, or wouldn't give us a straight answer on you. Of course, ever since he became our family Healer, he's always spoken in bloody riddles. Can't understand a word he says."

"Ron, you know that's not true," Mrs. Weasley admonished him.

"Yes it is," Ron said stubbornly, "all I want to know is why that bloody snake had to go paralyze the woman I love, but he just couldn't say."

"Muggle doctors are the same way, Ron, don't worry," Hermione said reassuringly, "although I'll say that mum and dad tried their best. Still, once you're a doctor—or a Healer—you speak your own language, and there's only so much the rest of us can understand." Mrs. Granger and Ron chuckled, though Ron stopped quickly.

"Why did this happen to you, Mione?" He asked sadly, stroking her hand, "You're a wonderful person; you shouldn't have to suffer like this." Ginny made a noise that seemed to be half growl, half stifled sob.

"What is it, Gin?" Hermione asked concerned. Without really knowing what she was doing, Ginny jumped on her feet, staring at Hermione with that simultaneous angry and upset look she had used on Harry when Moody had made the Order aware of the presence of the Death Eaters' labor camp.

"It's because your parents are Muggles!" Ginny said passionately, "and the snake belongs to Voldemort! You have to suffer more than any of us because Voldemort hates you for no reason at all!! I tell you, I won't rest until Harry brings Voldemort down! He's making anyone like you hurt in ways the rest of us can't understand! I hate him! There's nothing wrong with Muggles! Look at dad! He's a wizard, but every day he wants to know more about Muggles, he passes laws to help protect them from stupid, pure-blood supremacists! And look what he has to show for his efforts! And you, Hermione, you know more magic than half of the kids in Hogwarts, you've stood up for House Elves, not stopping, even if your quest was hopeless 'cause the rest of us are so blinded, you've been the best girlfriend to my idiot brother, you've been a wonderful sister to Harry, and I can't even begin to say what you've been to me. I doubt 'best friend' or even 'sister' is the correct word, 'cause you've been so much more! I bloody _hate _Voldemort! If Harry doesn't kill the bloody bastard then I will! I swear, he…!

"Ginny!" Hermione said shocked, though she couldn't help but smile a little. Ginny's hands had balled into fists and her voice had well surpassed a scream.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said, looking at Hermione and relaxing her fists, her voice dropping several decibels and a couple of octaves, tears spilling down her cheeks, "but if there was anything my brother and I agree on, it's this. You don't deserve this, Hermione. There's no reason, none at all. For what you've done to our world, and to my family, you ought to live in a mansion, respected and worshipped by all, but instead, because of Voldemort, your father is dead, and you're temporarily paralyzed. I don't know what this is, because it's more than unjust, and it's more than cruel. I love you, Hermione, and it just hurts, seeing you like this, and me not knowing how to make you better, because I don't understand that great big arse-holed prick." Ginny ran over and hugged Hermione with all her strength.

Mrs. Weasley had wanted to reprimand Ginny for her more than colorful wording, but found that, like the others, she had been stunned, and very moved by Ginny's impassioned rant, and the truths she had expressed, especially where everything Ginny had said about Hermione rang true for her as well. Mrs. Granger had whispered a soft thanks to Ginny and kissed her softly on her head, Ginny's words meaning the world to Mrs. Granger.

From all the time she had spent living with Molly Weasley while her daughter was off fighting Voldemort, Mrs. Granger had become aware that while some wizards did not like Muggles, most found the notion of pure-blood supremacy ridiculous, and yet, Mrs. Granger had always wondered—especially when she only knew of the Weasleys through the tales Hermione would tell when she returned from Hogwarts during the summer—if they were merely saying that so that Hermione, and consequently herself and Alasdair, could feel welcome in their company, but she had found that the Weasleys, in fact, did not harbor any ill thought because of their cultural differences, and Ginny's rant had put a seal on any and all of Mrs. Granger's doubts, and if what Ginny had said about Hermione's prowess at magic had been true, then, well…she was proud of her daughter, even if she might not understand the significance behind her daughter's achievements.

"I think…I might want a bit of a bath," Hermione said suddenly, bringing Mrs. Granger out of her reverie.

"I'll help you," Ron said at once.

"Me, too," Mrs. Granger said. The three of them got up and headed to the bathroom. They entered and Ron shut the door, locking it with his wand. Mrs. Weasley went over to the tub and began examining it.

"Nice," she complimented, "I like it. It looks almost Edwardian, is it?"

"I don't know, it's been in the family a long time," Ron answered, once again not understanding why anyone would find anything in his house appealing. Like so many other things, the tub was secondhand.

"It's not much," Ron said, "it's really grimy."

"I like it," Mrs. Granger said again, "if there was one thing Al and I disagreed on, it was furniture. I've always preferred antiques, I mean old things have so much more character, but where furniture's concerned, Al always went for modern, and so our bathroom is all posh and modern." Ron nodded, though he still could not quite grasp where the appeal in his ratty old bathtub was for Hermione's mother, but nevertheless pointed his wand at the tub, which immediately began to fill with steaming hot, slightly reddish-pink colored, rose scented water. Hermione turned to face Ron, a slightly shocked look on her face.

"Ron…how did you know I loved rosewater?"

"I don't know, actually," Ron said frowning slightly, "dad put a charm on the taps to recognize the favorite scent of the person who casts the spell to fill the tub, but…"

"Ahh, does ickle Ronniekins bathe in rosewater?" Hermione teased.

"I do not!" Ron responded in mock outrage, "My bath usually smells a lot more like my cologne. I guess I must have somehow indicated that the bath is meant for you." Hermione smiled.

"I still think you bathe in rosewater, Ron." She said, giggling. The look on Ron's face made her giggles become actual laughs, and even Mrs. Granger was roped in. After a few chuckles were passed, the taps shut off of their own accord.

"Wow!" Mrs. Granger said, impressed, "it takes our baths much longer to fill." Hermione reached down to undo the buttons of her shirt, but even though she still had command of her arms, her movements were awkward and stiff, and she couldn't manage her buttons.

"Ron…will you please?" Hermione said, holding out her shirt to him.

"Um…Hermione, dear, don't you think Ron should…er…wait outside…?"

"Mum," Hermione said patently, "Ron's seen me naked before, and I trust him."

"Oh…oh…very well," Mrs. Granger said reluctantly, as Ron began to unbutton Hermione's shirt. It was obvious that Ron helping Hermione undress was disturbing to Mrs. Granger, but she tried to withhold her objections, even though by the time Ron had successfully managed to help her with her pants, and Hermione was clad only in her bra and knickers, Mrs. Granger had to bite her lip to refrain from saying anything, especially when Ron began to help her remove these bits of clothing as well.

Finally, Hermione was undressed, and between Ron and Mrs. Granger they were able to lift her into the tub. She smiled as the water surrounded her, though the smile was short lived.

"This would be nice, especially if I could feel it," she muttered sadly.

"You can't feel the water, dear?" Mrs. Granger asked, starting to worry that Hermione might have suffered some nerve damage and that there was more to her condition than the healer had let on. Hermione shook her head.

"No, I can't feel the water," she responded, then perked up a bit, "still, I'm spending some quality time with my mum and fiancée, so I guess I'm still enjoying myself." Mrs. Granger and Ron smiled, and began to help Hermione sponge her upper body.

"That was very nice what Ginny said about you earlier," Mrs. Granger said after a few minutes.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "and it is a bit unusual that me and Ginny agree on something. Of course, after she and I came home for the summer after our third year—her second—I think she _might _have given me a run for my money in terms of…er…Hermione-stories. Your friendship and love means the world to me and Ginny, Hermione, there's no doubt about that."

"I love you, Ron," Hermione said quietly.

"I love you, too," Ron replied, "now, why don't you put your arms around my neck so we can stand you up, and your mum can help wash the rest of you."

After the bath, Ron carried Hermione back to the living room where Mrs. Weasley had a lunch waiting for them. Though both Ron and Mrs. Granger were expecting to need—and wanting to—help Hermione feed herself, they were pleasantly surprised to see that, despite her stiff arms, she was able to feed herself unassisted. Hermione had been shocked at first, and then giggly when Mrs. Granger had confessed.

"But on second thought, that may be one too many parallels between now and when you were a baby." Mrs. Granger said affectionately.

So it went on for a few days, Hermione being reluctantly dependant on her mother and Ron, though she was quick to note how readily they gave themselves to the task of nursing her back to health, occasionally having friendly disagreements with each other as to who would do what for Hermione. Later, though, the friendly disagreements led to true bitterness between Ron and Mrs. Granger, each wanting to be Hermione's personal caregiver. The whole thing was becoming rather stressful and they were all wondering when it would all be over.

Three days later, the household was awoken by Hermione calling.

"Mum!!" Hermione called. Mrs. Granger and Ron began running to Ginny's room, where Hermione had been sleeping, not because they were worried, but because they were rather excited, having heard the equally excited and joyful tone in Hermione's shout.

"Mum! I can move my legs again!" Hermione said when Mrs. Granger and Ron had arrived. "Look!" Hermione flexed both her legs to demonstrate.

"Of course, they're still quite stiff, but…" she was unable to complete her sentence as Mrs. Granger and Ron were hugging and kissing her in relief and congratulations. It was a sweet day.

Or was it a sweet day gone sour? Or a sweet and sour day, like the sauce? Ron had suggested that he and Mrs. Granger prepare a celebratory dinner, and he needed her to help him shop in Diagon Alley. She had accepted, her train of thought on par with Ron's, and Mrs. Weasley decided to join them, hoping to indulge Mrs. Granger's curiosity about the wizarding world, which was equal to Mr. Weasley's interest in the Muggle world. The two mothers had obviously bonded well while their children were out gallivanting across the U.K. in search of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Mr. Weasley had needed to report to the Ministry with regards to another regurgitating toilet—the first in nearly five months to be reported. The twins, meanwhile, had returned to check up on their shop, leaving Hermione and Ginny very much alone in the house.

After a few minutes of pacing to get her legs warmed up and steady, Hermione came downstairs and noticed Ginny morosely sitting at the dining table nursing a flask of Firewhisky.

"Hi, Hermy-ninny-own," Ginny said, her speech rather slurred.

"Honestly, Gin, you're getting worse than Viktor. It's Her-my-oh-knee, don't forget." Hermione teased, sitting down beside her friend. Upon seeing her face, Hermione instantly regretted what she had said. Ginny was obviously quite drunk, and yet she was obviously feeling the pain that she must have bottled up since being parted from Harry, and yet her face clearly registered that she was clearly feeling—perhaps too much so—the fear that Hermione knew the whole wizarding world was currently feeling in the deepest pit of their hearts.

"What's wrong, Ginny?" Hermione said, "Please tell me."

"Why should I?" Ginny challenged. There was no malice in her tone, but there wasn't anything else there either, and it unnerved Hermione.

"You remember what you told me three days ago?" Hermione said gently, "About not wanting to see me in pain because of Voldemort? Well, I don't want to see you in pain because of Voldemort either. You're my sister, Ginny, and I love you, and I want to help. Now more than ever."

"I just can't bear it. I feel like the next time I hear bad news, I'll just loose the ability to feel. I don't want to, Hermione! I need to be strong! I need to be strong for Harry! He needs to love me, and he needs me to love him! I _want _to love him, Hermione, and I don't want to loose the ability to feel, but lately all I can think about is how I'm not with my soul mate, how you came so close to getting the job done, but instead you and Ron return to us all sick, and everyone was afraid you were going to die. I'm afraid Harry will die. I don't even know how he is, Hermione! Honestly, I wish you could have just told me he died. We were so close…"

"I know. When mum and dad were captured, that's how I felt too. But they returned to me. Harry will return to you, Ginny. He will finish the job, or I don't know him. The rest of us will be by each other's sides forever. We were close, and now all we can do is to have faith that Harry will bring Voldemort down, and we'll all be safe again." Ginny sighed.

"Will we?"

"As safe as possible, yes."

"Want some?" Hermione eyed the flask warily.

"How did you get it?"

"Well, there are some advantages to being the innocent baby girl. Like having two elder brothers, say, who are notorious pranksters who can easily be blamed for pranks you yourself pulled. Just a sip?" Normally, Hermione wasn't one to drink, but she took the bottle and tried a sip, wanting, like Ginny, to try and find a way to not think about the current state of affairs.

Hermione knew that the alcohol would not help, but she found that sharing the bottle between herself and Ginny meant that she was able to feel closer to Ginny, which in itself helped her face up to everything. She had faith in Harry, and knew that he would finish the job, but she wanted it done soon. They had suffered enough.


	27. Chapter 27: Uprising

TWENTY-SEVEN: Uprising

"Dec. 19: Correspondence between the undercover Mad-Eye Moody and Albus Dumbledore.

'…and to wrap up the meeting, he made the statement: "By the end, all Muggles will fear me."'

Yours,

Ltoasra M.E. Dyoom"—from Albus and Aberfourth Dumbledore's Horcrux journal, p. 305

Snape stood, not in the cavern he had been in the last time he and Voldemort had spoken, but in an old Muggle castle that Voldemort had "renovated for a small stay". Snape approached Voldemort, trailed by Wormtail.

"You received your instructions, Severus?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Show no mercy. The objective is clear, Severus, annihilate the Muggles once and for all. Do this successfully, Severus, and we can all sleep soundly in our beds, knowing that no more of their filthy kind will ever befoul our shined shoes again.

"Wormtail, you have massed our troops?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"You are dismissed."

"Thank you, my Lord," Snape and Wormtail chorused. The two men bowed to the back of Voldemort's high throne, and turned to go to the barracks that Voldemort had set up for the Death Eaters on an island just beyond the castle. Just before apparating, however, Snape pulled Wormtail aside.

"Come with me for a moment, Peter, I want to talk to you." They disappeared behind a bush for a moment, and then returned, Snape looking oddly satisfied, and Wormtail looking confused, and then apparated to the Death Eaters' barracks together.

Prime Minister William H. Massey stood in front of his window, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet. The day had begun normally, a few notes passed from his various aides, schedules of meetings, phone calls, press statements requiring his consent…a typical day's beginning for the man in charge of Great Britain. But then, a dense plume of smoke could be seen out of the east window of his office. It must have been a fire, and Prime Minister Massey had suggested calling the fire department, but the fire department itself said that they had not been informed of a fire, and that all residences in the area where the smoke was either were out, and did not answer their phones, or reported that there were no fires. What had been odd was the fact that not long after he had seen the smoke, countless aides had reported to the Prime Minister of many very sudden, very unexplainable deaths. Many had suggested the Prime Minister send out the armed forces, but Massey had opted to wait out the situation. Then there was a knock on his door, and yet another aide, a terror-struck twenty-something entered the Prime Minister's office.

"What's your news, Davis?" Massey asked the aide.

"Sir, there are more reports. The offenders do not appear to be foreign, sir, and they haven't any weapons as far as we can tell sir. They're moving in on London, sir, in groups converging from the east, west and south, sir."

"And the people?"

"They're dying sir, in droves. The moment intelligence turns its back, there's another caller reporting a death, sir."

"Can't you pinpoint who these people are? Isn't there anything to go on?" Massey asked, frustrated.

"No, sir."

"All right. What do you suggest?"

"We need to send in the armed forces, sir. There's just no question." Massey nodded.

"Very well. Call out anyone we can spare."

"Yes, sir."

Estelle Horton, an employee of Granger and Granger dental offices was packing up, getting ready to go home. It was tough being the bacon bringer for her family, and though her husband Jeffrey often found work part-time (he could not work full-time due to a stress disorder), she was the one who had to spend so much time at work. It was especially true now that her boss, Alasdair was rumored to be dead, and his partner and wife Sarah, had taken a sabbatical for her daughter and to recover from her grief, that Estelle found herself spending more time at work, and less with her own daughter, Kitty, and her sixteen year old son, Malcolm. Tonight, however, another employee whom she had hired with Sarah Granger's permission, had volunteered to close the shop, giving Estelle a much needed early departure time, and Estelle was planning on treating Malcolm and Kitty to a night on the town.

When Estelle stepped out of the office, she became rooted to the spot with fear. Buildings left and right were burning, and screams of despair, fright and death lingered in the air. There were people dressed in what appeared to be black cloaks wearing masks running around firing off guns left and right, though Estelle was not certain what sort of weaponry, as she could not see the guns, and didn't know of bullets that emitted streams of light like these guns did. They looked like some sort of lethal flare, or something, and the only thing Estelle did deduce was that chances were, the weapons were illegal. The people out there in the cloaks reminded Estelle of the American supremacy group the Ku Klux Klan, except that this group seemed a hundred times more lethal, and the scenery around her was more reminiscent of World War 2.

As one of the cloaked people approached her and the office, a new sort of fear came into Estelle, and she took off running, praying against hope that the cloaked person did not see her. Estelle was running for home as fast as she had ever run in her life.

She never made it.

Back at Estelle's house, her husband, Jeffrey Horton was alternately pacing, fretting about Estelle, and looking out of the window, watching the horror of the battle. It had started many blocks down, and at first, Jeffrey had put it down as a simple house fire, and had phoned the fire department, but halfway through, he had seen the cloaked, masked people, seen them fire guns he couldn't see, set people's houses and apartment buildings on fire, and had seen people desperately jumping from their burning buildings.

"Malcolm, get the guns." Jeffrey ordered his son. Having grown up in redneck America, Jeffrey's father had given him a pair of shotguns as a coming of age present, but Jeffrey, not the hunting type, had stowed the guns away, enjoying their looks, but not what they did, and he had prayed that he would never have to use them. His prayers seemed to have been in vain, however, and as the approaching figures came closer to his house, he opened the window a bit, and aimed one of the shotguns at one of the offenders, Malcolm having done the same to another.

Meanwhile, six year old Kitty Horton, who had heard some commotion from downstairs, had come down from her room where she had been having a tea party with her dolls, and came into the living room, to see her father and brother shooting, and looking out the living room, she could see buildings being destroyed in front of her eyes.

"Bloody fucking hell!" Jeffrey cursed, "I don't understand it! He stopped my bullet! Just like that! I had it trained perfectly on him!" Malcolm, having used up his bullets had lowered his rifle, his face registering unbridled panic.

"Daddy?" Kitty said, approaching him, slowly.

"Kit! Get out of here!" Jeffrey roared in a panic, "you shouldn't be here, I…!" with a crash, the house next to the Horton's house, burst into flame. With a start, Kitty realized that a rather warm liquid was pooling in between her legs, and without her noticing, tears had started to come down her cheeks.

"Daddy, where's mommy?" Kitty asked urgently. Jeffrey's voice lowered as he answered, but the panic in his voice nearly tripled.

"I don't know kiddo."

"I want mommy!" Kitty said, now crying in earnest. Malcolm ran over and embraced his sister, while Jeffrey watched their neighbors' house burn, and listened to their desperate cries.

"Come on," Jeffrey said, suddenly, leading his children over to their fireplace, which bore a crucifix over the mantelpiece.

"What're you doing, dad?" Malcolm asked, picking up his sister, trying to ignore her wet pants.

"We're going to pray." Jeffrey said. He huddled down beside the fireplace, took his children's hands and embraced them, and began to pray. Jeffrey was not a man of devout faith, but at this moment, all he could do was to say anything that would help him survive, and neither he nor his children had ever prayed so hard. Even Kitty was silent.

The next moment, unnoticed by any of them, one of the masked people had fired something at them and their house was immersed in flames.

The Ministry of Magic had felt the pulses of magic that had signaled the start of the battle in London, but most of the members of the Auror division simply refused to believe it. Such powerful magic had not been felt since the days of Grindelwald, often considered the most evil wizard prior to Voldemort. However, once Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody and Minister Scrimgeour had felt the magical pulses, they were left in no doubt as to the meaning of it, and dispatched an army of Aurors led by Kingsley and Mad-Eye, with orders to apparate into London without hesitation.

Chaos was what met the Auror army. The Death Eaters didn't seem to have noticed the Aurors at first, so Kingsley and Mad-Eye pressed their advantage, quickly managing to effectively bring down a few Death Eaters and capture a few dozen more. Then began a three way civil war. With grim and ruthless efficiency, the Death Eaters continued to kill the Muggles, despite the best attempts by both the Aurors and the Muggle armed forces to stop them. If they knew that Aurors or Muggles were watching, the Death eaters would often up the stakes, and cast Cruciatus on the Muggles to make them die in agony.

A rocket fired from a fighter plane belonging to the British army exploded near where a group of Death Eaters were congregating. The Aurors had not expected the rocket to work, and were surprised that all the Death Eaters in that group had been taken care of. Inspired, Kingsley turned to a young Auror.

"Send for the Airborne Aurors!" Kingsley said. The young Auror saluted and pulled out his wand, producing a Patronus. Minutes later, many more Aurors on broomsticks entered the fray, pushing down on the Death Eaters from above. Always quick to catch on, the Death Eaters soon had killed a few of the Airborne Aurors and taken their broomsticks, and soon the battle raged on in the sky.

Nearby where the two sides were battling it out in the air, a group comprised of mostly members of the order, were fighting to simultaneously protect a group of helpless Muggle soldiers, and protect a small group of Muggle citizens who they had herded into a department store that they had proceeded to put various defensive spells on.

The group, which was comprised of Bill and Charlie Weasley, Tonks, Mundungus Fletcher, Fleur Delacour, Fleur's friend from Beauxbatons, Heidi, Hagrid, Madam Maxime and Hagrid's brother Grawp were doing a good job of keeping the Death Eaters at bay, or at least, they had prevented the Death Eaters from getting inside the department store, and for the time being, the Muggles were safe. The group themselves, however, had stalemated the battle, and both sides merely seemed to cast curses and hexes at the other side without any result.

An airborne Death Eater had fired a stunner which grazed off of Grawp's shoulder, doing him no harm, his giant's skin thicker than most rocks, but it did distract him enough for the ground-based Death Eaters to simultaneously gang up and cast _Avada Kedavra _on him. It seemed that force of numbers, and the notoriously powerful, worst of the worst, unforgivable curse could even overcome Grawp, and with an earsplitting roar of pain, crumpled dead. It had been a mistake. Madame Maxime, sensing Hagrid's grief, grabbed up the Death Eaters and very literally ripped them limb from limb. Those who knew Hagrid would have probably expected him to crumple into tears, so it was a shock to see him remain calm, focused, and, apparently taking inspiration from Madame Maxime, brutally and ruthlessly bringing down the Death Eaters.

The Muggle soldiers the Auror group had been helping to protect had been terrified of the three giants. Seeing something that you believe to be fantasy come to life can be a bit unnerving, and they had no idea how to react, or interact with, men and women who were at least four times bigger than they ought to be. But when one of the giants obviously died, and the other two reacted, it was obvious that the dead giant had been a significant part of the other giants' lives, and a significant person in one's life was something that the Muggles could understand, even if everything else about these giants was mystifying, and they too gave their all to avenge Grawp's death.

Finally, despite their ever-mounting death toll, the Aurors seemed to be gaining ground. The Death Eaters weren't going anywhere without a fight, though, and had turned the battle inside out when they had chosen to cast the Imperius curse on as many Muggle soldiers as possible, and made them kill their own families. Mad Eye Moody had followed one of these unfortunate Muggles from a distance, knowing that he would have to dispose of the poor man, and yet as he watched the Muggle ring his doorbell and proceed to emotionlessly (one of the Imperious curse's more nasty side effects) tell his wife and children that he had to kill them—for no apparent reason—even the (literally) battle-scarred and hardened Moody could not stop the tears of anger, hatred and sadness from coming. He turned to those who had joined him.

"Kill the Death Eaters! Take no hostages, and I don't give a bloody damn how you do it, just kill them!!" Mad Eye bellowed. His orders had shocked his men, all of whom knew Mad Eye's reputation, and his preference to bring in Death Eaters alive whenever possible, and now he just didn't seem to care. It was so unlike him that many thought he was finally living up to his nickname—at least the 'mad' part of it. Yet no one dared disobey his orders, especially since no one believed that, this time around, any Death Eater deserved their life.

Just over an hour later, Mad Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Emmeline Vance, Sturgis Podmore, Heidi Bastide and many other names had been added to the Ministry's 'Killed in action' list.

The battle was not happening just in London, either. For the second time, Fred and George Weasley, along with the other shop owners in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade were battling for their lives again in a battle that took most of the night. The battle had even reached Ottery St. Catchpole and the Burrow, where for several long hours Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley battled for their lives. Mrs. Granger had wanted to make a stand, but Hermione had told her mother that not only was she scared for her, but that it would be much wiser that she hide, reasoning that if the Death Eaters did come to the Burrow, they would be coming for her.

Finally, the battle had died down, the Death Eaters that had been attacking them having been called to London, and Hermione was spending some time alone with Ron.

"You know, Hermione, I've been thinking that I can't wait any longer, and I don't want to wait any longer, because I'm afraid of what will happen if I do…Hermione, my one love, I want to marry you sooner than later. What do you say?" Hermione snuggled closer to Ron.

"How does tomorrow sound?"

"Tomorrow sounds perfect." Ron smiled.


	28. Chapter 28: The Revolution of Ages

TWENTY-EIGHT: The Revolution of Ages

"Aug. 15, 1961•Aberfourth Dumbledore, 'Conversation with a drunken Death Eater':

'Hey, mister barkeep, I dun mean ter boast, but I belong to one of the world's best armies.'

'Who's at the head of your army?'

'I work for Lord Voldy-mork.'

'I think you've had one too many, sir, but please, tell me, what does your employer do?'

'Well, whoever stands in his way, like them snivellin' Muggles for instance, an' 'e just blows 'em away, jus' like that laughs vigorously!'

'He sounds dangerous. Is there any way to defeat him?'

'Nope. S'far as any of us are concerned, he's immortal. There isn't anyone or anything that can destroy him, but I did hear that he can be brought down by love.'

'So love can destroy him?'

'Don't be so sure, young lad, I've heard his plans, and by the time he's done with all those Muggles and Muggle-lovers, there won't be any love left 'round here, mark my words!'"—from Albus and Aberfourth Dumbledore's Horcrux journal, p. 292

Harry booked an additional night at the Pitlochry inn, hoping that he could still attract the snake even though the moon would no longer be completely full. Patiently he waited for midnight to roll around, pleasantly unaware of what was happening in London as he comfortably lounged in his room, slowly downing the dinner that the inn had sent up for him at his request.

Finally, midnight was near, and Harry set down his meal, stripped down and covered himself with his invisibility cloak, and crept out of his room. Silently down the steps he crept. The inn was curiously empty, Harry noted, as he passed the reception desk. Normally, the late-night crowd would now be coming back from the hotel's pub, meandering drunkenly towards their rooms, but now there was no one, not even the night staff, and it didn't feel right. Trying not to think about that, Harry proceeded to retrace his, Ron and Hermione's steps to the loch.

Harry waited as the last five minutes to midnight ticked by. Looking up at the sky, Harry was pleased to note that to the casual eye, the moon would appear to be still full. Heartened, he stepped into the loch, and waded out to where the water was about chest-high, and waited. Nothing happened for the longest time. Longer in fact, than when he had waited here with his two best friends, and he was starting to fret that he would have to wait out another complete moon cycle before he could try again, when suddenly, the banks of Loch Tummel began to twist and writhe again, leaving Harry once again standing in the middle of what appeared to be an endless lake, and again the moon was clouded. The only thing that had changed was how quickly he picked up Nagini's poem. He was not tossed from the water this time, and Nagini rose up out of the water like a Muggle film might depict the mythical monster, Nessie, to rise out of the depths of Loch Ness. Nagini did not flinch this time as Harry reached out for her, and he immediately felt the tug behind his navel that signaled that he was being transported by a Portkey. During the ride, Harry was aware that he could move with a little bit more grace than during normal Portkey travel, and that as they moved, the little bit of soul fragment was slowly leaving Nagini's body. Without really thinking about it, Harry cast the destruction curse on the fragment, causing the soul to blow up, and Nagini to die, plopping Harry down at his final location.

Looking around, Harry recognized his location at once. It was Castle Stalker, an old Muggle castle in Loch Linnhe, Scotland that Dudley had once said seemed mysteriously cool, and had begged his parents to take him on vacation there. Once he actually had experienced it, though, and the romance of it all had worn off, he had claimed it was very boring, and when he and the others had returned, Uncle Vernon had treated them all to a long rant about over-romanticizing tourist destinations in the media.

For Harry, however, the over-romanticized gritty, dangerous atmosphere about the castle was very real. Mist shrouded the castle, which itself was based on a tiny island less than a mile in diameter, and the nearest body of land was another small, but very high, treacherous looking cliff, a good half mile away from the castle, waves pounding the almost nonexistent shore, and like it was back at Loch Tummel, the shores mysteriously had disappeared, leaving Harry very much alone in the middle of an endless body of water, with only a very foreboding castle and his fears for company.

It was also very cold, and Harry quickly transfigured clothes onto himself and put a heating charm on them.

"Well, hello, Harry Potter, so nice you could pay me a visit." Harry spun around and stared at the front of the castle, where Voldemort was striding towards him, a very ugly and very fake smile upon his face, "how do like my new home? Scary, yes? I like to think that I occasionally succumb to brilliance that even my forefathers could not have come up with."

"Why, hello there, Voldemort," Harry responded casually, trying to ignore his samba-dancing nerves, and his heart beating a killer tattoo against his throat.

"_Lord _Voldemort, Harry," Voldemort replied just as casually, though his eyes, already mere slits in his face, narrowed further.

"Where're your Death Eaters? Your mates?" Harry asked disdainfully

"My friends," Voldemort replied easily, "are out in the beautiful city of London playing a little game I like to call 'Total Agony for Muggles'. Would you like to join them, Harry? I hear one of your best friends is a Muggle. Perhaps I could arrange you the honor of killing her, like I've been killing off the rest of the scum." Harry's blood boiled with anger, and he fought to keep his voice steady.

"Muggles are not scum," Harry said through gritted teeth. Voldemort chuckled.

"I see you have been molded into believing the rubbish off the streets," he replied. It was Harry's turn to chuckle.

"Rubbish, eh? I rather think it is you who have believed rubbish," Harry said, "as far as I can tell you and your minions are the only ones who still believe in that nonsense."

"So, tell me, Harry," Voldemort said lazily, "who exactly did install the notion of equality of wizards and Muggles in your head? Was it that doddery old fool Albus Dumbledore, or was it your mother? Your mother who was a weak, talentless witch who so unwisely challenged me?" The anger that Harry had felt at Voldemort's suggestion that Harry kill Hermione returned full measure at Voldemort's slight against his mother, and this time, Harry was not able to keep control of his voice.

"My mother is a hundred times more than what you will ever be!" Harry roared, "_Expelliarmus_!" Voldemort lazily deflected the spell.

"_Crucio_!" Came Voldemort's voice as means of a reply. Harry ducked the spell, and shot another one back at Voldemort, missing him by inches.

"My, my. You really are defiant to the last, Potter," Voldemort said, shaking his head, "and yet you have all the immature stubbornness of a little boy. How many times now have I told you and your minions that to defy me is an exercise in futility? _Crucio_!" This time, Harry was unable to dodge the spell, and it hit him square in the chest, sending pain throughout every square inch of his body until Voldemort lifted the curse, which was not until about a good half-hour later.

"So tell me, Potter, how do you plan to defeat me? I assure you, I am more than protected against a foolish boy such as yourself."

"I won't tell you a thing."

"Defiant and stubborn! Perhaps another dose of pain? My, my, what will it take to make you learn, Potter? _Crucio_!" This time Harry was ready, and he pelted towards the water, his only method of escape.

"Oh, I wouldn't try that, Harry," Voldemort called casually. He snapped his fingers and immediately a wall of Inferi jumped out of the water, and surrounded the island, effectively blocking Harry in. Harry jumped around the castle as Voldemort leveled another curse at him, and Harry could feel the bricks and stones from the castle wall cut into his skin. He paid the pain no mind, and waited, crouched for Voldemort.

"Hiding, are you? You cannot hide forever, Potter. If you come out and tell me everything, I might spare your life. Tell me how you plan to defeat me, and what the prophecy said, and I will consider it. No one has said I am not merciful."

"Never!"

"_Imperio_!" Laughing, Harry deflected the spell, sending his own at Voldemort again, who just managed to deflect it, causing the roof of the castle to fall in.

"I think it's my turn to ask you something, _Voldy_," Harry said sneeringly, "did you really think that only you knew about your Horcruxes? Did you ever stop to consider that with Dumbledore as your teacher, you might not be able to undergo your transformation to evil without him figuring out what was going on? It's like I've always said; you're pathetic." Harry aimed another curse at Voldemort. This time it hit him straight on, but did not appear to hurt him much.

"You cannot win against me, Potter." Harry laughed.

"Why do you laugh in the face of death, Harry?" Voldemort asked in mock curiosity.

"Because you've underestimated me, just as you've always underestimated your main rivals. Because I know the full contents of the prophecy; I know that the prophecy says I'm the only one who can defeat you, because you marked me as your equal, and I have the power you know not. I don't fear you, _Voldy_."

"I know the power of which you speak. So tell me, whom is it whose love will guide you? Is it your mother? That horrid Mudblood friend who excels in magic, even though she is undeserving because of her parents? That blood-traitor and his family? Or is it the blood traitor's little sister? The little slag who is no better than a scarlet woman? What do you see in them?"

"Don't ever…_ever_ talk about Ginny like that!" Harry said his anger no longer containable. Voldemort smiled. He had the upper hand now. A little more anger and insecurity and he could easily take command of the young man's magic.

"Yes, the horrid, horrible, worthless little scarlet woman, who…" Harry's anger was beyond words now, and he brought his wand down on Voldemort. Though he had not spoken the _Avada Kedavra _incantation like he had meant to, a very strange thing happened. As his wand came down through the air, the last few inches towards the tip transformed into a blood-red sword blade. The half-saber detached itself from Harry's wand and made a beeline for Voldemort's chest. For the first time, Voldemort looked truly frightened, as the saber was not slowed by his multiple attempts at a shield charm. With a small explosion, the saber hit Voldemort in the chest.

Voldemort screamed in agony. In his head, thousands of voices that sounded eerily like Harry, and Voldemort's millions of victims chanted words of impending doom to Voldemort. Harry was also feeling an intense burning in his body, as well as voices, but they were whispering words of love, comfort and encouragement to him, the loudest seeming to belong to Ginny, though he was able to make out Hermione, Ron and his parents' voices out. How he knew that they were his parents' voices, he did not know, only that they were. It was using Harry's magical energy in droves though, to maintain the curse, whatever it was, and though he knew he must not break the connection, he was definitely feeling exhausted, and he knew that it was only a moment till he lost consciousness. _I've failed,_ he thought, _I'm sorry, mum, I'm sorry, dad, Hermione, Ron…I'm so sorry, Gin…I've failed…_

With one last deafening scream of agony, Voldemort crumpled, enshrouded in a cloud of green and red energy. He was gone a moment later, and Harry fainted.

A few moments later, several pops heralded the arrival of several apparators. Remus Lupin, Rufus Scrimgeour, Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Regulus Black and Peter Pettigrew surveyed the scene. Scrimgeour took one look at the small crater that had been left by Voldemort, the unconscious Harry and let out a slow breath, and almost as quickly as he had come, disapparated again. Lupin ran over to Harry, and pulled him into a hug.

"Harry, wake up," Lupin said, trying hard to stifle his tears, "you did it, Harry, he's gone! Wake up, Harry, you did it!"

"He's not done yet," a voice sneered from the shadows. Lucius Malfoy stepped forward from behind a pile of bones that had been the Inferi. Lupin looked frightened. Lucius Malfoy's sneer doubled.

"Honestly," he said, gesturing towards Lupin, "you don't think my master would have left no one in charge after he was overcome, do you?" He looked over at where Snape, Draco and Narcissa stood.

"Draco! Narcissa! I am surprised! I didn't really expect you here. Still, it will be nice having you help me."

"Help you?" Draco asked. There was no mistaking the revulsion in his voice.

"We're going to finish what my master has begun. We will wipe out the Muggles once and for all, and the wizards will have a free reign at last. Come, my son."

"No."

"No?"

"I'm not coming with you, and no I'm not your son."

"What?"

"I never really realized how much you wanted me to merely be your drone. But after spending some time alone with Snape here and my mother, I realized that I want to dictate who Draco Malfoy is, not you." Lucius Malfoy looked livid at Draco, but quickly recovered, and looked instead at Narcissa and Snape.

"Severus, my old friend, Narcissa, my wife, I could care less about the boy, but I need you two by my side. My master had his advisors and I will have mine. Come."

"No," Narcissa replied, "I stand with my son. You are no more my husband than my son's father." Lucius and Snape locked eyes for a few moments.

"No," Snape said, answering Lucius' unasked question. Without waiting for a response, he turned to Narcissa. "Narcissa, do you think you can reacquaint yourself with an old school flame, and in turn, forgive him for not noticing the love you sent his way? I realize now that I have always loved you, Narcissa, and I beg you to forgive me, and would love to start a new life with you and Draco." Narcissa smiled, and took Snape's hand in her own.

"I say, yes on all accounts." Narcissa responded.

"I say no on all accounts," Lucius replied.

"My decision is mine alone," Narcissa said calmly, "I'm an adult. You will receive the divorce papers in a day or two."

"Why you –" Draco stepped between his mother and father.

"Leave now and we won't hurt you."

"You must obey me. You are my son."

"No, I'm not. Leave." For the first time, Lucius looked stymied.

"He won't be alone," another voice said from the shadows, revealing Bellatrix Lestrange, "Come Lucius, I am beside you all the way. I would never desert you, a man who has his priorities straight," she turned to Snape, Narcissa and Draco, allowing her vision to sweep over the others as well, "you haven't seen the last of us." With that she and Lucius Malfoy disapparated. After they had gone, Snape turned to Lupin, still holding the unconscious Harry, and offered his hand.

"The times are changing," Snape said diplomatically, "it is time to lay our schoolboy grudges aside. I may never see eye to eye with you, Moony, nor will I ever stop hating James, but we can no longer afford the enmity we have cherished all these years." Surprised, but in agreement, Lupin took his hand, and shook it.

"Come, we may as well leave this lot alone," Snape said, taking Narcissa's hand in his own.

"Tell Potter…I wish him luck." Draco said to the others, as he took hold of his mother's arm, and disapparated.

It took Harry a fair amount of energy to come round, and he was very groggy. He did register that he was in someone's arms, and that two other men were watching him closely. The man in whose arms Harry rested looked at him closely, his face now coming into focus, and one of the other men looked achingly familiar, but no…it couldn't be…

"R—Remus? Sirius…Is it…?"

"Keep calm, young man," Regulus Black answered, "You don't want to work yourself up now, you've been through the mill."

"S—Sirius…"

"No, I'm not Sirius, Harry, I'm his brother Regulus. I'm sorry, Harry, I hurt my brother, and I hurt you. I should never have been a Death Eater, but…I don't know…I was such a hateful youth…and Voldemort's promises sounded so appealing, and I never hated my parents the way Sirius did…it isn't easy going against your mother's wishes, Harry…forgive me."

"Forgive me, too, Harry," Wormtail said.

"You!" Harry whispered in horror when he realized who the other man was.

"Please, Harry, I know you must hate everything about me, especially after what I did to your parents, and I have no excuse, and you have every right to hate me, but…after you gave me my life back in your third year, however unwillingly you may have done it…it got me thinking…about James and the days I spent with him at Hogwarts…he never liked me the way he liked Sirius and Remus, but on the other hand he never mistreated me, either…and look what I did to him in return…all for a bit of power. I went ahead with my work, because Voldemort frightens me like no other…you have no idea what he does to those who go against his wishes…but every time I was in a room alone, I always questioned myself…but I had created a façade from which I could hide behind, convincing myself what I was doing was right…but then, Severus, who was a double agent unbeknownst to the rest of us, helped me see…that I've been a fool. I owe you a life debt, Harry, and I hope that over time, I can repay that debt." Harry looked at the two men. Their hopeful, yet downcast and somewhat wary and frightened faces made Harry think they were being sincere, but he didn't understand why all these people who had made his life hell were suddenly kneeling at his feet begging forgiveness.

"I don't understand…what's going on…?" Lupin lifted Harry a bit so that he could see the crater.

"Voldemort's gone, Harry. You did it. He's gone for good." Harry looked closely at the crater. There, in the middle, was Voldemort's wand. Following Harry's gaze, Regulus walked over to the wand, picked it up, snapped it in two, and threw it into the water. Harry felt close to tears, and looked at Pettigrew.

"I forgive you. Both of you."

"Thank you, Harry," Pettigrew mumbled, "it's more than I deserve." Regulus Black nodded assent. Though he felt childish, Harry held onto Lupin's arm like a child might hold onto his father's arm. Lupin smiled and petted Harry's hair.

"Look at that bird!" Regulus whispered in an awestruck voice. Harry followed his gaze, and saw a beautiful white bird coming from the sky towards them. A few moments later, Hedwig had alighted upon Harry's shoulder. She hooted her softest yet, into Harry's ear, sending shivers down his spine, and causing his tears to break their dam. Had he been able to hug Hedwig, he most certainly would, but he settled for stroking her as tenderly and lovingly as he could, gripping Lupin all the more tightly, who in turn bent down and kissed Harry's head shyly, but not holding any of his emotions back.

"Can we go home?" Harry asked.

"Absolutely." Lupin said, and gripped the exhausted Harry by the arm, and disapparated.

Many miles away, the hundreds of Death Eaters attacking London suddenly stopped attacking, and disapparated in droves.


	29. Chapter 29: The Power He Knew Not

TWENTY-NINE: The Power he Knew Not

"Jan 1•Aberfourth Dumbledore, Correspondence to his brother:

I tell you, if ever Voldemort is defeated, the New Year holiday will take on a whole new meaning.

I can't help but be a little less optimistic than you, brother, that Voldemort will eventually be overcome, and meet his loss, but there isn't a single patron who comes into this bar who doesn't hope upon any old star that this miracle could someday occur…"—From Albus and Aberfourth Dumbledore's Horcrux journal, p. 999

It was the final game of the Quidditch season. The big game that determined the team that represented England in the Quidditch World Cup. The game would also be the object of intense speculation amongst Quidditch circles, for the two finalist teams were to be Puddlemere United and the Chudley Cannons, who were riding a dry season of nearly sixty years, in terms of making it to the semifinals!

The new captain and keeper for Puddlemere, Oliver Wood, just called up from the reserve team, had a pretty good feeling about his team. The chasers, Stanford, Villiers and MacNaughtson were all entering their seventh year on the team, and were all very prolific, well seasoned players. The beaters were decent, having a record placing them third in the league overall. The Seeker, John Turner was slightly problematic. He was excellent at avoiding Bludgers, but his ability to recover the Snitch quickly was rather sub-par, and he was very gullible, easily falling victim to the opponent Seeker's diversionary tactics.

Nevertheless, Wood felt pretty darn optimistic that this year was Puddlemere's year. The commentator for Puddlemere (who were hosting the Cannons) agreed, and had little more to do than to call out the various plays during the game, not having much color to add where the players were concerned. Fairly deep into the game, Puddlemere led 60-20, Wood having only been fooled by two of the Cannons chasers' moves.

"Of course, everyone knows Wood's reputation," the commentator said, as Wood pulled off yet another spectacular save, "and fans of Puddlemere have been screaming for his promotion ever since our reserve team acquired him directly from school…and Templeton of the Cannons has the Quaffle, he's speeding towards Wood, who is very much at the top of the shortlist for this year's Gold Broom award, by the way…Templeton about in line with Wood and…wait…what?" The commentator's voice died away as a Ministry worker tapped him on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear. When the commentator spoke again, his voice was very shaky.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, fighting a rush of emotion, "I've just heard good news from the Ministry…that…that you-know-who is dead. For good. He's actually gone!" The commentator dissolved into tears.

In their shock, Templeton had not even noticed that he had thrown the Quaffle through Wood's middle hoop, nor did Wood notice he had let the Quaffle by him, as he was slumped on his broom, consumed by tears of joy and disbelief. It was so wonderful, and yet so impossible…slowly, as they took in what the commentator had said, the crowd began reacting. Some, like Wood and the commentator, were consumed by tears; others just jumped up and down and screamed, causing a celebratory pandemonium throughout Puddlemere's stadium. Wood flew over and hugged Templeton. The match was called a draw by the referee, and thousands of players and fans alike left the stadium together to celebrate.

Miles away, in the devastated London, in the old bar the Leaky Cauldron, Tom the landlord, and many of the Leaky Cauldron's regular patrons were gathered around Tom's old radio, listening anxiously to the WWW.

'_And today's top stories,_' the broadcaster announced, '_Bethelyn Hargrove has been accused of setting up regurgitating toilets near Stoke as well as other forms of Muggle-baiting, and has been tried by the Wizengamut and found guilty on all charges, an increase in Owl Fever has caused a shortage of postal owls in southern Hampshire, and delays in normal post owls are to be expected. If you own an owl currently, you are urged to pick up a handbook on owl fever available at your local magical creatures shop or apothecary. If you are concerned that you or one of your family may have contracted the disease from a family owl, please contact the department for magical creature injuries at St. Mungo's, and lastly…oh, wait…hang on, listeners…we have a news flash from the Ministry…very good news…I don't dare believe it…he-who-must-not-be-named is defeated. It's over!_' Like the commentator at the Quidditch match, the broadcaster had trouble keeping control over his voice. Tom bowed his old wizened head as the tavern became a cacophony of sound.

"Yeh did it, Harry! I knew yeh would!!" Hagrid roared. Doris Crockford hugged a wry man sitting next to her, even though she had never met him before. Lee Jordan, Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, who had been resting at the Leaky Cauldron after a stint in St. Mungo's, for injuries sustained in the London battle, were jumping up and down, cheering. Madame Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse, who had been enjoying a cuppa with Professors Sprout and McGonagall, hugged Sprout, while McGonagall sat, stunned.

"Drinks all around, and on the house!" Tom called, beaming. He waved his wand at a corner of the pub, and a fiddle jumped up off a chair and began playing lively jigs, and the pub danced the night away.

At the Burrow, there was an air of celebration and excitement, too, but no one there had heard the news. Resplendent in a tuxedo that was far more fancy than anything he had worn before, making him wonder where on earth his parents had dug up the gold to pay for the tux, Ron Weasley stood upon a platform that had been erected in honor of the occasion. Ron had been well pleased with how well the whole thing had come together on such short notice. He was more nervous than he had ever been in his life, but his excitement was barely containable. Today, he was going to be married to Hermione Granger. Ron waited patiently as the last-minute details were being worked out and the last of the two extended families that had been able to make the wedding were seated.

In the kitchen of the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger were admiring Hermione, all decked out in her bridal gown. It was a beautiful sleeveless flowing dress, and Hermione looked stunning. Ginny, the sole maid of honor, sat beside her mother, beaming, but oddly quiet.

"Have we forgotten everything?" Mrs. Weasley asked, more to herself than to anyone else, trying to ignore Hermione's horrified stare at the idea that there might be anything that they forgot, seeing as she was due to be walked down the aisle in fifteen minutes.

"Don't worry, baby, we're on top of everything," Mrs. Granger assured her daughter, "you look gorgeous. I'm so proud of you, baby." Mrs. Granger kissed Hermione, who relaxed a bit.

"Oh, yes, there's the seating," Mrs. Weasley said, apparently unaware that anything else had been said, "and I've gotten all the seats saved for us…let's see, there's Bill and Charlie, the twins, they requested seats for Angelina and Alicia beside them, my brothers and the other extended family will be behind us…Hermione's extended family will be behind her mother…Ginny, dear, do you want to save a seat for anyone? You're beside your father; your brothers are beside me."

"Yes," Ginny said, "I want to save a seat beside me for Harry." Mrs. Weasley knelt down beside Ginny.

"That's sweet, dear, but…erm…we haven't heard from Harry, and I don't know if he'll come…or if he even knows…"

"He'll come, mum, I know he will," Ginny said, almost dreamily.

"Ginny, sugar, I…"

"He'll come, mum, and I want him to sit beside me," Ginny said, more forcefully. Mrs. Weasley shrugged to herself, and waved her wand, making another 'reserved' card appear from thin air, and then banished it to the appropriate seat.

"Now, that should be everything…where's Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley muttered distractedly. Now Hermione sent a look at her mother that was positively panicky, while Mrs. Granger looked sad. With her father dead, there was no 'father of the bride' for Hermione, and when Hermione had initially told her mother of her and Ron's plan to marry the previous night, Mrs. Granger had asked Hermione if she might do the honors of walking her down the aisle, and Hermione had initially consented. However, in a bout of last-minute revision earlier that day, Hermione had said that she wanted to go traditional, in the Muggle sense, and asked Mr. Weasley if he might be willing. Mr. Weasley had been delighted. Mrs. Granger had understood, and supported her daughter's decision, but admitted that she had been excited by the prospect of giving her daughter away in marriage and was a tad disappointed.

Finally, Mr. Weasley appeared, dressed in his absolute best, and offered his arm to a now very nervous, but very excited Hermione, just as the same invisible trumpet that had played at Bill and Fleur and Remus and Tonks' double wedding (Hermione had consented to mixing the traditions of a Muggle wedding with those of a wizard wedding) sounded off, and Mr. Weasley led Hermione in, trailed by Ginny, carrying Hermione's veil.

After Hermione, beaming, was settled in place beside Ron, Bill, who Ron had asked to officiate the ceremony, got up from his seat, and moved regally to his position behind the couple.

Harry, who had spent the last night with Lupin, recuperating at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, approached the Burrow hesitantly. He didn't know if the others had heard the news or not, and he wasn't exactly sure what sort of reception he was up to, but he also knew he wanted to see Ron and Hermione more than anything, and Ginny even more than that, but he was still very tired, despite his lie-in, and he didn't think he'd completely recovered from his magical exhaustion he'd sustained the night before. He hid behind a rather large tree in the Burrow's yard, trying to sort himself out. He chanced a peek around the trunk of the tree, and noticed that there was some sort of gathering happening in the Burrow's yard. _Probably a celebration of Voldy's defeat,_ Harry thought dryly, _So much for a calm reunion_. Sighing, Harry accepted defeat, and began to hesitantly walk towards the crowd.

"HARRY!"

"Do you, Hermione Jane Granger, to have and to hold, to cherish and love, protect and nurture, to share your soul with from now till the end of forever, take Ronald Bilius Weasley as your lawfully and magically bound husband?" Bill said, reciting an oath that was a combination of the Muggle and wizard oaths.

"Yes," Hermione said softly, beaming, her eyes swimming with happy tears.

"Do you, Ronald Bilius Weasley, to have and to hold, to cherish and love, protect and nurture, to share your soul with from now till the end of forever, take Hermione Jane Granger as your lawfully and magically bound wife? Ronald? Er…Ron?" For Ron was not paying attention. His attention was drawn to someone who was slowly, hesitantly, almost shyly approaching them from behind the big oak just a few feet away from the marriage platform. The body was very familiar, but no…it couldn't be…but if it was…it was too good to be true…it meant…_he _was gone, and he had survived…but no, it wasn't…Merlin, it _was_!

"HARRY!" Ron yelled. Ignoring the shocked looks given to him by Bill, Hermione and the crowd, Ron jumped off the platform and pelted down the aisle towards Harry. When he got there, oblivious to everyone watching him, Ron pulled Harry into a bone-breaking hug.

"Harry! Does this mean…what I think it means…you survived…I can't believe it, but…not important…you've returned to us…that's what matters…Mione and I…Ginny and the others and mum and dad…been so worried about you…is it…did you do it?" Ron spluttered, his eyes swimming. Harry nodded, and the force of Ron's hug doubled. As soon as he released him, Harry was then smothered in Hermione's embrace.

"Harry…I can't believe it…you did it!" Hermione sobbed into Harry's shoulder. Finally, she too released him, and stepped back, allowing Harry to see them properly, dressed in their finery. His jaw dropped.

"Ron! Does this mean…what I think it means?" It was Ron's turn to nod, and Harry enveloped his two best friends into equally strong hugs. Soon, Harry found himself being hugged by the rest of the Weasleys and Mrs. Granger. When they finally had all released him, he looked around for a certain someone.

"Where's…" he began, but stopped, finding himself looking right at Ginny. Her face registered nothing but shock. The two just stared for a few minutes, the awkwardness of the situation growing with every breath they took. Ginny looked ready to cry, but no tears showed themselves even so, and instead, Ginny was starting to look angry.

"Do you have any idea…" she said in a deadly whisper, "what I've been through? How scared I've been? How much I've missed you?" Harry couldn't help but smile very slightly. It was wonderful to hear her voice again.

"Do you know how much I've missed you?" Harry responded equally softly, but warmly.

"Is it really you?" Ginny said, the anger gone. Harry nodded. Ginny threw herself onto him, her tears now freely falling. The two just held each other for what must have been close to half an hour, each reveling in the comfort of the other's embrace, a love stronger from pain emanating from them. Finally, Harry broke the embrace, still keeping his hand on Ginny's cheek.

"Ginny," Harry said softly, "I made a promise to us that we would marry you as soon as I returned. I'm back now Ginny, and I want to keep that promise." Ginny looked shell shocked for a moment, but then beamed at Harry.

"I want to keep that promise, too," she said, resting her head on Harry's shoulders.

"Are you two up for another double wedding?" Harry asked, grinning at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley, unable to speak, due to emotion, merely smiled. Mr. Weasley, though not as choked up as his wife, also settled on a nonverbal response, smiling broadly and nodding.

"Wait, Harry!" Ginny said, half laughing, half fearful, "I don't have a gown, and you don't have a tux!" Harry smiled.

"Last night, while I was naked and facing imminent danger…" he paused, until the giggles from his truthful, but lighthearted rendition of the state he had been in, arriving at Castle Stalker passed, "I learned that you can slightly manipulate all those transfiguration spells Professor McGonagall taught us. Hang on…" he withdrew his wand, and pointed it at Ginny.

"Don't worry, my love, this won't hurt." Harry said in lighthearted reassurance. He pictured Ginny in a bridal gown and with nonverbal magic, changed Ginny's formalwear to a beautiful bridal gown that was almost exactly like Hermione's, except that Ginny's had lace sleeves that extended just over Ginny's biceps.

"Wow, Harry!" Hermione and Ginny said, simultaneously, Hermione commenting on Harry's magic, and Ginny commenting on Harry's choice of gown.

"I love it, Harry," Ginny whispered in awe. Harry merely smiled and kissed her, pointing his wand at himself and transforming his day-to-day clothes into a handsome tuxedo.

A few minutes later saw the couples back on the podium that Mr. Weasley had enlarged slightly, Bill reiterating Ron's vows, so that Ron could say 'I do' properly. With eyes only for his beloved wife, Harry did not really take in Bill's reading of Ginny's vows, nor his own, until Bill got to 'take Ginevra Molly Weasley as your magically bound (Bill didn't bother with the Muggle parts of his speech for Harry or Ginny) wife' Harry's ears pricked up, and he took in every word.

"I do," he said. Bill smiled,

"Husbands, you may now…" he choked on a joyous sob, "…kiss your brides." Harry bent down to kiss Ginny, feeling her soft hair tickle his face. When Harry surfaced from the kiss, his glance swept over Ginny's shoulders, and he barely kept in a gasp. There, centered in his line of vision was the ghostly form of Albus Dumbledore, who smiled at Harry, his arms over two people beside him, and a dog lying peacefully at his feet. The woman to Dumbledore's left was Harry's mother, who beamed at him, sobbing, pearly white tears streaming down her cheeks. The person to Dumbledore's right was Harry's father, who was also sobbing very unashamedly. The dog then transformed into Sirius, who was fighting his tears (a loosing battle) making him look like the sun was hurting his eyes. All four beamed at him, waved, and disappeared. Harry smiled at where they had been, and nuzzled his head down into Ginny's neck, kissing her again, and softly and gently sucking her pulse point. Ginny giggled, and playfully swatted him on his neck.

"Come on, Mr. Romantic, stop that, or we'll miss the dancing." Harry grinned, and followed Ginny over to where Hermione and Ron were already starting to dance to a waltz by the wonderful string octet that Mr. Weasley had booked for Bill's wedding.

The celebrations of the two weddings had not ended until well past six in the evening. Fred and George had taken it upon themselves to go into Diagon Alley and round up any of Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny's friends who were in town, and invite them to the feast. Lee Jordan, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Neville Longbottom, the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team—the original one, with whom Harry had made his explosive debut—showed up, as well as Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick and Madame Pomfrey. Hagrid had come with McGonagall and Sprout, and when Harry had told Ginny of his promise, Mrs. Weasley had run off to owl Remus and Tonks, who had been there as well, to congratulate the newlyweds. Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione had all been milling around, chatting with their various well-wishers, eating cake and lapping up the celebrations, each happier than they could have ever imagined, when suddenly, Harry stopped in front of a well-wisher, and his jaw dropped. Aunt Petunia, with Dudley in her wake.

"Let me just say this quickly, or I'll loose my nerve," she said before Harry could say anything, "I just want to say…I'm sorry, I guess."

"You…you…what?" Harry spluttered, sure he had misunderstood.

"I…owe you an explanation," Petunia continued, "I never…I guess I never planned to end up treating you the way I did. I hope you accept that I mean it when I say that I never hated Lil, and your father never mistreated me when Lil brought him home to meet your grandparents…I mean, your mother and I always found time to play together and be there for each other, despite her being a witch. When she died…I couldn't help but be angry at the wizarding world, and then I met Vernon, who despised magic, and it just became an easy façade to hide behind. I never thought I'd be in a hatred of your world so deep, I…I wasn't brave like Lil, and Vernon's hatred of magic offered me the easy way out. I'm sorry, Harry, and I hope you can find it in you to forgive me someday." She extended her hand, which Harry took hesitantly, followed by Dudley's massive hand over his own, while Dudley grunted his own apology. Petunia then turned her eyes on Ginny, whose own eyes were narrowed with intense dislike.

"Ginny, is it? I just want to say, enjoy your time with Harry. In truth, unlike what I've said all these years, he's a good boy, and I wish you two happiness." Ginny's eyes grew with shock as she too shook Aunt Petunia's hand.

"Now, Harry," Aunt Petunia ordered, "go back to that party and have a good time." Harry grinned, as he realized for the first time, he was able to willingly obey his aunt. She returned his smile, and steered Dudley out of there, and Harry returned to the party.

Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see Mark Creek come up the Burrow's drive a few minutes after Petunia and Dudley had left. As the two caught up for the second time, it seemed that Mark had regained the personality he had before Hermione went off to Hogwarts, joking about how he had managed to get to the Burrow by walking around with his eyes closed. He chatted easily with both Ron and Hermione, wishing them the absolute best.

"Hermione, I hope we can become friends again," Mark had said as he prepared to leave at about 9:30, "I always liked those days. I apologize, too, for how I treated you at Auntie's house. Once again, you were right about me, and I understand now that while you might be magical, my parents' death is not your fault."

"Of course we can still be friends." Hermione had replied. Smiling, Mark had embraced her, shook Ron's hand, and left.

The party had been fun, but it had been exhausting, which was why nighttime found the two couples lounging beside the pond, watching the beautiful night sky.

"Org, I ate too much," Ron mumbled massaging his stomach.

"I'll say!" Hermione said, giggling, "You had, what, ten helpings of our cake?" Ron grinned and kissed his wife.

"He'll have a monopoly on the bathroom tomorrow, Hermione." Ginny said, giggling as well. Harry said nothing, but merely cuddled Ginny, smiling. A comfortable silence fell about the group, each absorbed with their loved ones.

"Nice night." Ginny commented, rolling over onto Harry's back and looking at the night sky.

"Yeah," Hermione said, rolling over, "hey Harry, do you know that old Nursery rhyme?"

"I don't know," Harry responded, "for one thing, you didn't give me a title, and for another, Aunt Petunia never told me nursery rhymes." Hermione smiled at him.

"Join in if it is familiar," she said, "mum used to sing this to me as a lullaby." She grinned again, and began to recite.

"Star Light,

Star bright,

First start I see tonight,

I wish I may,

I wish I might,

Have the wish I wish tonight"

She finished with Harry, who had indeed overheard his aunt say the same rhyme to his cousin when he was very young.

"Cute," Ginny said, "but I don't need to make any wishes. I've got all I want in my life right now…well, except perhaps children, and I hope I can trust you to help there at some point, my husband?" Harry grinned.

"Sure. I want kids too." Ginny smiled and kissed him. Harry smiled back at her, but when his gaze ran over Hermione, who easily looked happier in that moment on Ron's lap than he'd ever seen her before, his face became sad.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione and Ginny asked simultaneously.

"Oh…Voldemort…he said awful things about you all. He said that I'd be doing myself an honor to kill you, Hermione. I expect he probably thought I would be doing you an honor, too, and he likened Gin to a scarlet woman, and he basically called Ron trash, not to mention your families…he couldn't spare a nice thing to say at all."

"You shouldn't have listened to him, Harry," Ron said, "Nothing he says is worth our time."

"I agree," Hermione said, "besides, you, Ron and Gin all know that it would not be an honor to kill me, and that's fine by me. It –" she reddened a bit "– means a lot to me that you like me as a witch and as a Muggle."

"It means a lot to me that you three would be my friends. That's why it hurt so much to hear Voldemort hurt your pride."

"If you think that daft wanker could make me stop loving you Harry, then you're wrong. I don't care _what _he likens me to, I'd never let that affect me. Besides, he's dead. Thanks to you, Harry, he's dead."

"I saw my parents at the celebrations today," Harry blurted out, without thinking about it, except that what Ginny had said reminded him of it.

"As ghosts?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded, Hermione's brow furrowed.

"But…but…" she stuttered a bit, "I was reading about ghosts when dad…" she choked on a sob, and Ron tightened his embrace about her, "…passed away. Well, you know, I was missing him and wanted to see him…but apparently only wizards can return as ghosts, and very few choose to do so, only those wizards who fear death." Harry squeezed Hermione's hand comfortingly.

"I know," he said, "Nearly-Headless Nick told me the same thing when I spoke to him after Sirius died. But…people always say that Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard alive. I dunno, I guess this would be the sort of thing he could pull off…somehow or another."

"Do you think it means anything?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. I think it means that, whatever Sybill Trelawney said about me in her prophecy, I've fulfilled my _true _calling today. I was never destined to bring Voldemort down, I was destined to marry a beautiful girl," he smiled at Ginny, kissing her forehead, "and carve out a life with her. That's what I see when I look at those stars. That's the wish I wish for."

"That's true," Ron said, "but I agree with Ginny. I don't need to make a wish, cause you know what I see when I look at the stars? I see a future with the four of us together in it."

"Here's to that future," Harry said, raising an imaginary glass,

"Here's to happiness and hope," Ginny added.

"To friends and loves, Muggles and wizards coexisting peacefully, and to House Elves insured decent working conditions and wages," Hermione said, causing the group to chuckle. Ron yawned.

"Here's to bed," he said, "and sharing it with the most beautiful witch I know." The others laughed.

"Cheers," they said together, and got up, heading back to the Burrow. From somewhere, a Phoenix trilled its song, and the four friends smiled. It was a sign. Of what could be debated, but I think it is a safe assumption that they all knew it was a sign that somewhere out there, there was another adventure waiting for them.


	30. Epilogue

Epilogue

It was a beautiful Christmas Eve night, though very cold looking, by the snow that cascaded down through the night, spilling and swirling in a quiet dance from sky to earth, creating mesmerizing sculptures as the wind pushed the drifts this way and that. Nevertheless, in his comfortable bed in his farmhouse just outside of Hogsmeade, Ronald Weasley was very contentedly warm and fast asleep snuggled up to Mrs. Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger-Weasley.

It had been an exhausting night, laying out all the gifts for his four wonderful children and mesmerizing wife underneath the Christmas tree after they had all gone to bed, which, especially since three of the kids were teenagers, wasn't usually until after eleven at night. Ron's favorite part about Christmas, though, aside from strolling the streets of Hogsmeade caroling with the Hogsmeade Oratorio Society, for whom he and Hermione belonged, was dressing up as Father Christmas to deliver the gifts. Ron would magically expand their chimney so that he could easily slide down, carrying all his gifts for his family in a burlap sack. He would then proceed to role-play Father Christmas and lay down the gifts, and keep an eye out for his milk and cookies. He might have made a quick job of it, if Hermione hadn't come down in her sexiest nightdress to deliver Santa his bakery-fresh milk and cookies. After that, things had ended up getting a bit playful.

Because of this, Ron had been very tired by the time his head had hit the pillow. Hermione had shown clear signs of wanting to play more, but Ron had only to put his head on the pillow before he was snoring loudly. It is the desire of most parents to be able to sleep in on Christmas morning, especially one who had been as playful as Ron had, however, Ron was the parent of four children, the youngest of who was only three years old.

Hannah Weasley had arisen at five in the morning, and had managed to control her excitement until about six-thirty, which probably set a record of some sort for her. Knowing she wouldn't be able to go downstairs, she instead opted to run into her parents' bedroom. She climbed up onto the bed, to take in her sleeping parents. Deciding they had slept long enough, she proceeded to jump on the bed.

"Up, up, up, daddy! Up daddy, is Christmas, is Christmas!" Hannah squealed excitedly. Ron grumbled incoherently, trying to roll over. Hannah, however, would not be put off.

"Up, daddy, up now! Is Christmas!" Finally, Ron managed to open his eyes, looking blearily at his youngest daughter. He sat up, yawning.

"Mmmm…Christmas, is it?" he asked her, rubbing his eyes. Hannah nodded vigorously.

"Presents to open, daddy, come on, get up!" She said, rather loudly. Ron smiled at her.

"I guess that means that on Christmas, as your daddy, I get to…TICKLE ATTACK!!" Hannah squealed and tried to avoid Ron's arms, however, a career of professional Quidditch keeping had given Ron excellent reflexes, and he was able to catch his daughter before she made good her escape. He smiled and chuckled at her squeals and splutters as he lovingly, but ferociously tickled her.

"Oh yeah," Ron said, suddenly seeming to think of something, "as it's Christmas, and since I am still your daddy, I also have to get a big Christmas hug from my baby, right, Hannah?" he stopped tickling her, and pulled her into a big hug, enjoying the fact that even at three years old, she still smelt like a baby. He kissed her numerous times on her head, the only child that he and Hermione had conceived who had gotten Hermione's brown hair.

"Well, if it's Christmas," Ron said, looking at Hannah, "that means we have presents to unwrap, right?" She nodded, Ron smiled. "Well, if you can get your mum up, we can go down to breakfast. I reckon everyone else is up by now." Hannah moved over to Hermione's side of the bed and started to try and get Hermione up.

"Up, marmee! Get up, is Christmas!!" Hannah called at Hermione, "we got gifts!"

"Mmf…you two g'wan ahead. Leemee time to rest." Hermione muttered sleepily and rather incoherently.

"What d'ya think?" Ron asked his daughter, "should I tickle her too?"

"Ronald Weasley you wouldn't dare!" Hermione said, suddenly sounding very much more awake and a tad flirtatious. She too finally sat up, and looked at Hannah.

"So, Christmas, eh bear?" Hermione asked lovingly, "well then, why don't you come over here and give your mother a big Christmas hug and kiss, eh?" Hermione said grinning.

"Eurgh!" Hannah squealed, trying to look revolted, but sounding delighted, "I already gave daddy one!" Nevertheless, she allowed herself to be embraced in a rather tight, but extremely loving hug by her mother.

"Come on, marmee!" Hannah squealed after breaking free from Hermione's embrace, "presents! Presents, Marmee!" Hermione grinned.

"Lead the way," She said to Hannah, fixing a bathrobe around her nightdress, and then picking Hannah up, kissing her, and staring at her brown hair, feeling immensely proud of Hannah. Naturally, Hermione loved all her children, but there was something about having a daughter who looked so much like her, and though she was hoping Hannah would get a hold of how to say 'mommy' soon, she loved how Hannah called her 'marmee' because it reminded her of marmalade, her favorite breakfast spread. To be called something so similar to something she loved, by someone she loved so dearly, it warmed her heart.

Ron had been right to think that everyone else had gotten up. His other children were all seated around the tree. There was Clara, the eldest of Ron and Hermione's children, who was an extraordinarily beautiful sixteen year old, who looked like a mix of her mother and her aunt Ginny. People were constantly saying that her eyes and hair were what made her look so much like her aunt, and while it was true that she had the Weasley hair and brown eyes, Hermione had to constantly remind people that both she and Ginny had brown eyes. After Clara were the boys, David and Carl. David was fifteen and Carl was thirteen. Ron beamed at his kids.

"Happy Christmas, you lot!" He said cheerfully, kissing each over the head. "Who wants a Weasley Christmas breakfast?" he called, making for the kitchen.

"Me!" Everyone, including Hermione called after him. Ron smiled and began pulling out various pots and pans. Hermione watched Ron, beaming at him. There weren't many guys she'd known, especially before she came to Hogwarts, who liked to cook, much less be actually good at it. Even Hermione herself grudgingly admitted that her cooking couldn't really be called stellar either, but Ron, whose mother could cook like no one else, had clearly inherited his mother's gifts, which Hermione had assumed correctly, had come out of helping Molly Weasley in his pre Hogwarts days. Hermione sighed blissfully as the living room was now bearing all the smells of Ron's cooking. Grinning, Hermione sat down on the couch beside Clara.

"Hey, mum, happy Christmas." Clara said, kissing Hermione gently.

"Happy Christmas Clara." Hermione responded, embracing her.

"Oh, mum," Clara said, after Hermione released her, "Uncle Harry was in the fire just before you and dad came down, he said he'd be here…" she consulted a Muggle watch Hermione had given her as a off to school gift when she was accepted into Hogwarts "…well, he should be here now."

"I hope he comes soon, he can share in this breakfast." Ron called from the kitchen, "I daresay I've made a bit too much for just us."

"I don't know, dad, you know how Hannah likes to eat." Carl said, suddenly, taking everyone by surprise. Carl was easily the quietest of the four kids, and liked to spend most of his time in his room, playing a guitar, a Muggle instrument his maternal grandmother had gotten him into, but when he did speak, he was easily the liveliest one, being a good conversationalist after the ice had been broken, very intellectual and had inherited the Weasley wit.

"Well, Hannah should eat a lot," Ron said, coming back into the living room with a tea tray, "she's a girl who's growing, she needs nourishment."

"Nah," Carl said, "I think you're just making excuses for the fact that Hannah got your love of food in her genes, especially chocolate frogs." Hermione and Ron burst out laughing.

"Did someone say chocolate frogs?" Said a voice from the fireplace. A man with extremely untidy black hair, glasses, a lightning bolt shaped scar and startlingly green eyes was pulling himself out of the fireplace and approaching them, grinning from ear to ear.

"Harry!" Hermione called out delightedly, running forward to embrace her brother-in-law, "Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas, Hermione." Harry responded, hugging her and kissing her cheek. Harry moved on to embrace Ron while a stunning woman with flaming red hair that fell just below her elbows pulled herself out of the fire, grinning just as broadly as Harry had.

"Happy Christmas, Ginny Potter!" Hermione called jovially.

"Honestly," Ginny said in mock anger, "when will you start calling me just Ginny?"

"Sorry," Hermione said beaming, "I just can't help it. The name sounds so cool."

"Speak for yourself," Ron said, embracing his sister, "I can't get used to her no longer being a Weasley by name."

"Well, I guess the name does sound kinda cool, doesn't it, Hermione Weasley?" Ginny said, grinning even more broadly.

"Where're the kids?" Hermione asked Ginny.

"They're just coming. I swear, Jamie just can't get out of bed in the morning." Ginny said, shaking her head.

"David's not great in that department, either." Hermione said conspiratorially, "it takes a holiday like this to get him up early."

"Hey!" David said indignantly from the couch, "I can get up any time I want!"

"Which, unless it's a school day, usually isn't until after noon." Hermione said teasingly, smiling at her second child. David shook his head, turning back to his book. David, like his mother, had a burning love of books, and if you couldn't find the two, chances were very likely that they could be in the family library, their noses almost literally touching the paper. Suddenly the flames of the fire turned green again, and Harry and Ginny's son, Jamie stepped awkwardly out of the fireplace, in one arm bearing a shrunken burlap sack with their gifts, and supporting his sister in the other.

"Oh thank goodness you're here," Harry said, embracing his son and relieving him of his sister, "I was beginning to worry." Jamie smirked, stepping back.

"Why didn't you tell me you had shrunk the presents? I spent half an hour looking for them. _That _of all things, is why I'm late. And where's David?"

"I'm here mate," David said. Jamie and David were the same age, and while David was a bookworm like his mother, he and Jamie were also the school pranksters, taking after their twin uncles, as well as star members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. David and Jamie embraced, sharing a particularly close bond. Clara came up to Harry, and looked at the little girl he held in his arms.

"Heya, my little Quidditch star," Clara said, taking Mackenzie Potter from her reluctant-to-let-go father, "how are you, dear baby cousin?" Clara was rather famous for her already fine tuned motherly instincts. Hermione had often said that Clara would be like her grandmother, which was immediately obvious, if you observed Clara with Mackenzie, who was Clara's favorite.

Mackenzie was only three months older than Hannah, and like Hannah was the only one with Hermione's brown hair, Mackenzie was the only one with Harry's black hair. Still, Harry and Ginny hadn't as many bragging rights in that department, as they only had their two children, whereas Ron, the bearer of the 'Weasley tradition', was the one with four children, which made Hannah's brown hair a little more of a standout than Mackenzie's.

"So, we're all here, what's the plan?" Ron asked, laying down his complete breakfast, which included pancakes, toast, eggs, kippers and coffee, along with milk for Hannah and Mackenzie, not to mention sweet potato pancakes, a recipe that Ron had gotten from a Muggle friend, which had become an instant hit with his family.

"Well, I think we'll do breakfast here, then head over to mum's." Ginny said.

"Why are we going to mum's?" Ron asked, while Harry looked a bit confused. Hermione rolled her eyes lovingly.

"Honestly, you aren't telling me you forgot about the party your mum was throwing?" Hermione said teasingly.

"Harry kept forgetting, even though I would tell him every other day." Ginny said, shaking her head.

"I did not!" Harry said in mock indignation, "I just thought this was going to be a New Year's party, to celebrate Voldemort's downfall…"

"Dad, I know you were the one who brought him down, but for Merlin's sake will you _please _not say the name!" Jamie said through gritted teeth. Harry smiled and shook his head, but said nothing.

"Well," Hermione said, "that was the original plan, but Molly decided that rather than celebrate his downfall, we ought to have a special Christmas to celebrate the first Christmas we've had together since…_his_…downfall." She looked nervously at Harry, who had been trying to encourage his children to call Voldemort by his name, and disliked people encouraging them to call him anything else, and yet Hermione didn't think that she ought to test her nephew any more, not on Christmas day, and by the fact that his face seemed unchanged, she assumed that Harry thought so too.

Part of the reason that Harry had not decided to correct either Jamie or Hermione was that he wanted this Christmas to be a memorable one. As Hermione had said, and Mrs. Weasley was celebrating, was the fact that, for many different reasons, from house-shopping, to Mr. Weasley's retirement trip (for two only; so it was just him and Mrs. Weasley) and everything in between, the Weasleys and Potters had not had a Christmas together since before Harry had brought Voldemort down.

Breakfasts together were always fun, but everyone agreed that the Weasley-Potter Christmas breakfasts were always the best. Hannah and Mackenzie would be in their high chairs beside each other, their mothers on their other sides, beside whom would be their fathers, and on the other side of the table, Clara, David, Jamie and Carl all sat, David and Jamie beside each other, chatting conspiratorially about the next joke they'd pull with Uncles Fred and George, or what new item they might suggest that Fred and George sell in their shop, while Jamie would joke with Clara about her being a prefect, and chat with Carl about Muggle music and Muggle instruments. Jamie himself was a big fan of Muggle drums, and had a collection at his house, and would frequently have jam sessions with Carl. Hermione would discuss the Ministry with Harry and Ginny, who were the only others besides herself who had jobs there, as Ron was still playing Quidditch for the Chudley Cannons. If the talk got around to Quidditch, everyone usually joined in, including Hermione, who'd boast about being married to a Gold Broom award-winning Quidditch Keeper.

Finally, the breakfast wound down. Hannah and Mackenzie easily finished first, and started squirming with anticipation about opening their presents.

"Well, shall we go over to mum's?" Ron asked, having cleaned and put away the dishes with a wave of his wand.

"No, daddy, presents!" Hannah squealed, while Mackenzie nodded vigorously.

"We're going to open them at your grandmother's house." Ron replied.

"No! We open them here!" Hannah said indignantly, while Mackenzie pouted.

"Well," Harry said, "I suppose those two could open one or two here, and then take the rest to over to Molly and Arthur." Ron nodded, it would work.

"Is that okay with you two?" He asked. Both Mackenzie and Hannah nodded, though it was clear that they would have preferred to get the present opening done at home, and then go to their grandmother's house.

Hannah had opened a fairly small present from her parents, who had talked her into waiting on the big ones until they got to the Burrow.

"Don't forget, your grandmother will want to open the big ones with you." Ron had said, a reminiscent smile playing over his face. Hannah's gift had been a wizard children's book, '_The Adventures of Sam Quaffle_', a graphic novel series Hannah had been after her parents to get her. In keeping with her nickname, Harry and Ginny had gotten Mackenzie a miniature toy broomstick like the ones Harry had seen when he was fourteen at the Quidditch World Cup. After the girls had played a bit with their new gifts and had said thank you to their parents at least twenty-five times, the two families prepared to go to the Burrow.

It was tough. Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny would have preferred side-along Apparition, since they knew that, because of Hannah and Mackenzie having already opened some of their gifts, they were already a little late, and they knew that Mrs. Weasley would probably be starting to worry. Nevertheless, with two sacks of presents, and a total of six kids and only four legal, licensed Apparators, Apparition was quite out of the question. The only reasonable answer was to set up a Portkey.

Harry cast a duplication charm on a moldy old Wellington boot that Ron used as a doorstop for his screen door, and turned the duplicate boot into a Portkey. The others then crowded around and placed a finger on the Portkey, Hermione and Ginny holding Hannah and Mackenzie tight to them with their other hands.

After a few seconds of rough travel (due to the large number of travelers, the rate of shoulder-bumping had dramatically increased) the Weasleys and the Potters landed at the Burrow. Hermione looked at the rustic, rough, ramshackle house, feeling an overwhelming wave of emotions hit her.

She loved the Burrow. Loved it like no other place. It was here at this house that her life took off, and took on a meaning. She looked over at Harry, whose face showed the same feeling. Here, Harry had found a true family with his best friend's family, and had found a place that had given him love, courage and support when he could not find any of those things within the confines of his own blood until much later, when his aunt had asked for his forgiveness for the way she had treated him. Most importantly for both Harry and Hermione, however, was that the Burrow had given them both the thing they so wanted—to have someone to love and share their lives with for ever and ever and on.

Hermione, however, loved the Burrow for different reasons. Unlike Harry, she had been brought up by parents who loved her, and had come from a stable, functional family, as opposed to Harry's very dysfunctional one, but despite the love of her parents, she had, prior to meeting Ron, been a very insecure, rigid and unbendable person, only finding happiness in academic success. From the moment she started hanging out with Ron, even in the days before she started truly loving him, he had taught her that life didn't have to be about following rules, and she found that she could loosen up a bit and be happier for it. Spending six summers with Ron at the Burrow had nourished her ability to loosen up, and she knew that, for that one simple lesson, she would be forever grateful to Ron, and to Harry, because between them and the rest of the Weasleys, and thanks to her summers with them at the Burrow, she realized that her life did in fact, have a meaning. Before going to Hogwarts, she really didn't know what she was living her life for.

The Burrow was also about family—first and foremost—and Hermione not only started to love Ron, but she also realized that she was able to find, and cherish, a brother within Harry and a sister within Ginny, and as the four began to live their lives together, and eventually all become relatives, she realized that only her love for her parents would equal the love she felt for Ron, Harry and Ginny, and the Burrow was the place that encouraged, smiled upon, and nourished her love.

Most importantly, however, the Burrow was about memories—the time she first slept with Ron, the place she had been wed to him…heck, she had conceived her first child here!...the place she would not, could not, forget. As her eyes found Ron's bedroom, she remembered the first time she and Ron had made love, just before going off on the Horcrux hunt, but remembered the even stronger memory of the first night they spent there after they were married. She and Ron were lying side by side, facing each other. She couldn't stop smiling, and looking at her new ring. The simple gold band that meant so much. Ron, however, looked uncharacteristically pensive.

"You know," he said, his blue eyes twinkling, "I was just thinking…Mione, I've loved you since…since I can remember! Every time Malfoy teased you…I had to stand up to him, for you. I didn't know why, but every time he said something negative about you, especially when he called you 'mudblood'…it was like…I dunno, my heart was breaking for you…or something. When you were petrified…I don't even know how describe what I felt then…I guess it was almost like a part of me was petrified along with you…and then I was so jealous of my Quidditch hero…I hurt you so much when I was 'dating' Lavender…if you could call it that…was I that much of a git? Was I that _thick_? To have experienced it all, but not realize what it meant? It's like I was playing with your feelings! Now look where I am, married to, and snuggled up with, the woman I love like no other." Hermione could not reply. She merely moved as close to Ron as she could, no words nor kisses able to convey how much Ron's words meant to her.

She remembered making love to Ron in the orchard where the Weasleys practiced Quidditch. That would be a day that would be impossible to forget, for it had been the day the two conceived Clara. It had been the day that Ron had been accepted into the Chudley Cannons reserve team, while a new department at the Ministry of Magic, the Department of House-Elf Representation and Legal Services, a department that was Hermione's undertaking, had been successfully established. If Ron or Hermione had said, as they showered each other in kisses, and ripped off each others' clothing in their jubilation, that that particular August 15th was the day that would change their lives forever, they were not considering what would happen to them a few months later. Hermione could vividly recall that day (May 10th) lying in a bed in St. Mungo's hospital, screaming, sweating and crying, saying a lot of things to Ron, most of which she did not mean.

"You _git_!" Hermione had roared on a particularly painful push, "why did you have to do it to me in the orchard?! First the rashes from those plants, and now you're putting me through this?! This is all your fault you great big, bloody wanker!" Ron, on the other hand, was most certainly sweating, and trying his hardest to keep his wife calm (while he himself was trying not to faint), sponging her forehead with a cool cloth. He had read a book that Hermione had gotten not long after she discovered, and announced that she was pregnant (another day she would never forget; Ron had stood stock still in front of her for a moment—she was terrified that he would be frightfully angry and leave her for good—and then gave her his lopsided smile she so loved, tears forming in his eyes, and hugged her like never before. "I'm going to be a DADDY!" he had roared, pumping his fist in the air). The book had said to expect such reactions from the woman as she labored, but even so, he hadn't expected that…Hermione never swore! But then, she gave that last push…Ron had unashamedly wept as Clara gave her first cry, and as he handed Clara to a sobbing Hermione, felt like he loved the world, not to mention the most beautiful baby girl imaginable.

"I don't think I've ever been so happy," Hermione said through her joyous sobs, looking at Ron through curtains of tears, a giant smile on her face as she kissed her tiny daughter, "and it's all your fault."

"Ronald! Ginevra! You're late!" Molly Weasley's voice startled Hermione back to the present. So lost in her thoughts, Hermione had failed to notice that Ron had gently steered her into the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley's reprimanding tone was quite deceiving, for she approached the group with a great big, broad smile on her face. If possible, the broadest smile Hermione had seen her wear.

"Oh, dears, it is so good to see you! Happy Christmas!" Mrs. Weasley had hugged Ron, Ginny, Harry and Hermione twice, giving her own children a bonus hug each. Arthur Weasley quickly followed suit. What had very pleasantly surprised Hermione was to hear a screech of,

"Hermione, baby!" Followed by Hermione being smothered in the embrace of her mother.

"Mum! I wasn't expecting you!" Hermione said, shock evident in her voice, but mostly delight.

"Thought I'd surprise you, baby!" Sarah Granger said gleefully, "since Arthur managed to get my house permanently attached to the…what is it called…floo network, he…er…called yesterday, asked me if I wanted to come to a little Christmas party he and Molly were planning. I said does Hermione know about it? He said yes, but she doesn't know you'll be there, I said, okay, I'll be there then, and he picked me up later that day! And besides, what grandmother doesn't want to spend Christmas with her grandchildren?"

"Oh, mum, that's great! I'm so happy!" Hermione hugged her mother again, and kissed her.

"I wish," Hermione said in a whisper, so that only her mother could hear, "that dad was here, too. He would have had so much fun." Hermione broke her hug with her mother, tears beginning to fall, and looked at her mother.

"He is, baby, he's here." Mrs. Granger replied soothingly, her own eyes brimming with tears.

"Now, shall we get this party cracking?" Mr. Weasley asked, rubbing his hands together, looking excited. Hermione grinned. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were showing physical signs of age—What remained of Mr. Weasley's hair had gone from very red to a very light blonde, as grey and white became the predominant color on his head, and Mrs. Weasley, while her hair was still red, though a couple shades lighter than a carrot, had shown every desire to run at Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny, when they had entered just a few minutes ago, and though she had approached them as quickly as she could, she was showing clear signs of her arthritis—but they remained as young in spirit as though they were both still twenty-something.

And so the party commenced. Mr. Weasley had to magically expand the kitchen and living rooms, for not only were Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, the kids and Mrs. Granger present, but Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Fred, George, Angelina Johnson (who had begun dating Fred) and Alicia Spinnet (the same for George), Remus and Tonks Lupin, Hagrid and Amos Diggory as well. It was not hard to see why Ron had smiled reminiscently when he had informed Hannah that they would open their gifts at the Burrow, for when the children attacked their gifts, Mrs. and Mr. Weasley along with Mrs. Granger were in their element, at least as enthusiastic about the gifts as the kids were, laughing, oohing and ahhing along with them. There was good cheer all around, and many hours were spent just sitting around, catching up. Many visitors also arrived in passing. Neville and Luna had come around when Mrs. Weasley was making tea, and Neville gave Ginny some papers for a project on medicinal Herbology that he was working on with her, while Luna admitted to Hermione and Ginny that she was pregnant, and asked if she might stop by Hermione's house and borrow some books. They ended up staying for Christmas tea. Penelope Clearwater made a brief appearance, thanking Mrs. Weasley for her sweater.

"It was nothing, dear." Mrs. Weasley said to Penelope, "you were always as good as family to me. Percy spoke so highly of you when we were alone together." Madam Maxime had stopped by as well, to say hi to Hagrid, and invited him to spend New Years with her in France, an invitation Hagrid had accepted. Madam Maxime left only after she had tasted, and complemented, Mrs. Weasley's treacle tart.

After Madam Maxime had gone, it was whittled down to just family, the Lupins, Hagrid and Amos Diggory, and one of the most memorable moments for any of the Weasleys or Potters. Jamie and Carl had stolen their fathers' wands (to avoid the Ministry of Magic detecting their underage magic) and had sneakily shrunk their instruments and carried them in their back pockets, while Harry had done the same with the piano he and Ginny owned. Ginny and Hermione had been very unhappy with their sons, but Harry and Ron had managed to get them to let go, in the spirit of Christmas. The three took out their instruments and brought them back to their original sizes, and had a memorable night of caroling. They had continued singing until about nine at night, by which time Hannah and Mackenzie had fallen asleep on their mothers' laps, and a halt to the singing as Ginny and Hermione put their youngest to bed (they were going to spend the night at the Burrow) had to be called. From there on out, things calmed down a bit. The others congregated by the fire, swapping stories and tales, and just enjoying each others' presence. Finally, at about 10:30, David and Carl announced that they were going to bed.

The others, however, had stayed up for a bit of a nightcap. For some reason, as the hour crept towards eleven at night, everyone seemed to be getting very sentimental, and everyone's love for each other was more obvious. Ron coaxed Clara's head onto his lap, while she stretched out so that she lay across Ron and Hermione's laps. Ron held her to him, petting her hair and kissing his beloved daughter, while Hermione had one arm around Clara and the other around Ron, taking it in turns to kiss her child and husband, and Jamie was hugging Ginny, while Harry rubbed his back. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger were looking lovingly at their children, grandchildren and each other.

"You know," Harry said, giving Jamie's shoulder a squeeze and standing up, "we've just lived through our first Voldemort-free Christmas together, and I think that merits just one more song, don't you?" he stepped over to the piano, and tapped it with his wand, and after the piano played a few bars of introduction began singing.

"Take my hand, and lead me to salvation…" he started in a crisp, beautiful tenor. Ginny, who had been cuddling Jamie, smiled. She could well remember him singing to her a few years back, during the war to help her relax and fall asleep, and though his voice had shown a lot of potential, it was still rough and untrained, but now, after singing with Ron and Hermione in the Hogsmeade Oratorio society, and singing lullabies to his kids, Harry's voice had become much steadier and sure, and it was beautiful.

"Take my love, for love is everlasting…" Ginny's soprano joined in with Harry, harmonizing perfectly.

"And remember the truth that was once spoken…" Ron and Hermione now joined, Ron having inherited his father's soft, calming bass, and Hermione sang a wonderful alto to Ginny's soprano.

"To love another person is to see the face of God…" Jamie and Clara joined in. Hermione moved herself in between Clara and Ron, putting her arms around each, while Harry and Ginny embraced Jamie in a similar fashion. Molly, Arthur, Remus, Tonks, Amos, Hagrid, Sarah and the others also jumped in.

"Do you hear the people sing

Lost in the valley of the night?

It is the music of a people who are climbing to the light

For the wretched of the earth

There is a flame that never dies

Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.

"They will live again in freedom

In the garden of the Lord

They will walk behind the plough-share

They will put away the sword

The chain will be broken and all men will have their reward.

"Will you join in our crusade?

Who will be strong and stand with me?

Somewhere beyond the barricade

Is there a world you long to see?

Do you hear the people sing

Say do you hear the distant drums?

It is the future that they bring

When tomorrow comes!"

"Have I ever told you two how much I love you?" Hermione said, smiling at Ron and Clara.

"I think so," Ron said, kissing Hermione and winking. Hermione proceeded to wrap her arms around Clara, while Ron put his arms around Clara and Hermione, and Sarah put her arms around Hermione and Ron, the group sharing a loving bear hug with each other.

"I'm trying my hardest not to cry," Ron said gruffly, causing Clara, Hermione and Sarah to laugh.

"Do you know how much like your grandfather you look?" Harry asked Jamie, messing his son's red hair, "but you got your mum's hair, for which I'm not sorry." He turned to Ginny, and embraced her, kissing her passionately and playing with her hair.

"Did I ever tell you that part of the reason I love you so, is because of a curse? The Potter family folklore says that for many generations now, we Potters have been doomed to fall hopelessly in love with redheads who have fiery tempers to match their hair. Apparently, according to Moony, my father considered it a blessing. I agree with him totally, and for the life of me, Gin, I wouldn't have it any other way."

It was another night (and a night at the Burrow, no less) that Hermione (and Harry) would never forget. It was the night that every dream she had since she had been a mere little girl just out of diapers had finally come true. Her life wasn't a 'happily ever after' fairytale; she couldn't have that, no one could. There were still dangerous people out there; there were still things that could go wrong, their family could still be torn apart somehow, but while there might be wizards and witches like Professor Trelawney out there who might be able to predict the future and tell her that her family was doomed to misery, why should she worry, when, as Hagrid had once said so wisely, what's coming will come and she would meet it when it did, standing beside her children, husband, mother, brother(s), sister, and her mother and father-in-law. The ones who were important to her. And if they were lucky, perhaps, once again, Professor Trelawney and her fellow Seers would be again proven wrong and Divination would go back to wearing its label as one of the most imprecise branches of magic.

Alasdair Granger smiled. Tears formed in his eyes as he observed the party winding down. He looked over at the man beside him, and gave him the thumbs-up.

"Look at my little kitten…all grown up into a cat…"

"My little boy…survived you-know-who…and the Potter curse is still intact!"

"I love you, Hermione, my little kitten. May you and Ron live on in infinite happiness. I can give you nothing more."

"I love you, Harry, my little snitch. May you and Ginny live in endless joy. She is a wonderful girl, and may she christen you a nickname like 'Emperor Emerald', or something stupid like that. After everything you've done, you deserve something that will make you laugh."

Arm in arm, Alasdair Granger and James Potter blew their children kisses. Finally, at long, long last, there would be peace. For now.

"_Do you hear the people sing,_

_Say do you hear the distant drums?_

_It is the future they bring when tomorrow comes_

_Tomorrow comes!_"


End file.
